Fired at his scorn the queen to Praetus fled,

And begg’d revenge for her insulted bed:

Incensed he heard, resolving on his fate;

But hospitable laws restrain’d his hate:

To Lycia the devoted youth he sent,

With tablets seal’d, that told his dire intent.¹⁶⁸

Now bless’d by every power who guards the good,

The chief arrived at Xanthus’ silver flood:

There Lycia’s monarch paid him honours due,

Nine days he feasted, and nine bulls he slew.

But when the tenth bright morning orient glow’d,

The faithful youth his monarch’s mandate show’d:

The fatal tablets, till that instant seal’d,

The deathful secret to the king reveal’d.

First, dire Chimaera’s conquest was enjoin’d;

A mingled monster of no mortal kind!

Behind, a dragon’s fiery tail was spread;

A goat’s rough body bore a lion’s head;

Her pitchy nostrils flaky flames expire;

Her gaping throat emits infernal fire.

“This pest he slaughter’d, (for he read the skies,

And trusted heaven’s informing prodigies,)

Then met in arms the Solymaean crew,¹⁶⁹

(Fiercest of men,) and those the warrior slew;

Next the bold Amazons’ whole force defied;

And conquer’d still, for heaven was on his side.

“Nor ended here his toils: his Lycian foes,

At his return, a treacherous ambush rose,

With levell’d spears along the winding shore:

There fell they breathless, and return’d no more.

“At length the monarch, with repentant grief,

Confess’d the gods, and god-descended chief;

His daughter gave, the stranger to detain,

With half the honours of his ample reign:

The Lycians grant a chosen space of ground,

With woods, with vineyards, and with harvests crown’d.

There long the chief his happy lot possess’d,

With two brave sons and one fair daughter bless’d;

(Fair e’en in heavenly eyes: her fruitful love

Crown’d with Sarpedon’s birth the embrace of Jove;)

But when at last, distracted in his mind,

Forsook by heaven, forsaking humankind,

Wide o’er the Aleian field he chose to stray,

A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way!¹⁷⁰

Woes heap’d on woes consumed his wasted heart:

His beauteous daughter fell by Phoebe’s dart;

His eldest born by raging Mars was slain,

In combat on the Solymaean plain.

Hippolochus survived: from him I came,

The honour’d author of my birth and name;

By his decree I sought the Trojan town;

By his instructions learn to win renown,

To stand the first in worth as in command,

To add new honours to my native land,

Before my eyes my mighty sires to place,

And emulate the glories of our race.”

He spoke, and transport fill’d Tydides’ heart;

In earth the generous warrior fix’d his dart,

Then friendly, thus the Lycian prince address’d:

“Welcome, my brave hereditary guest!

Thus ever let us meet, with kind embrace,

Nor stain the sacred friendship of our race.

Know, chief, our grandsires have been guests of old;

OEneus the strong, Bellerophon the bold:

Our ancient seat his honour’d presence graced,

Where twenty days in genial rites he pass’d.

The parting heroes mutual presents left;

A golden goblet was thy grandsire’s gift;

OEneus a belt of matchless work bestowed,

That rich with Tyrian dye refulgent glow’d.

(This from his pledge I learn’d, which, safely stored

Among my treasures, still adorns my board:

For Tydeus left me young, when Thebe’s wall

Beheld the sons of Greece untimely fall.)

Mindful of this, in friendship let us join;

If heaven our steps to foreign lands incline,

My guest in Argos thou, and I in Lycia thine.

Enough of Trojans to this lance shall yield,

In the full harvest of yon ample field;

Enough of Greeks shall dye thy spear with gore;

But thou and Diomed be foes no more.

Now change we arms, and prove to either host

We guard the friendship of the line we boast.”

Thus having said, the gallant chiefs alight,

Their hands they join, their mutual faith they plight;

Brave Glaucus then each narrow thought resign’d,

(Jove warm’d his bosom, and enlarged his mind,)

For Diomed’s brass arms, of mean device,

For which nine oxen paid, (a vulgar price,)

He gave his own, of gold divinely wrought,¹⁷¹

A hundred beeves the shining purchase bought.

Meantime the guardian of the Trojan state,

Great Hector, enter’d at the Scaean gate.¹⁷²

Beneath the beech-tree’s consecrated shades,

The Trojan matrons and the Trojan maids

Around him flock’d, all press’d with pious care

For husbands, brothers, sons, engaged in war.

He bids the train in long procession go,

And seek the gods, to avert the impending woe.

And now to Priam’s stately courts he came,

Rais’d on arch’d columns of stupendous frame;

O’er these a range of marble structure runs,

The rich pavilions of his fifty sons,

In fifty chambers lodged: and rooms of state,¹⁷³

Opposed to those, where Priam’s daughters sate.

Twelve domes for them and their loved spouses shone,

Of equal beauty, and of polish’d stone.

Hither great Hector pass’d, nor pass’d unseen

Of royal Hecuba, his mother-queen.

(With her Laodice, whose beauteous face

Surpass’d the nymphs of Troy’s illustrious race.)

Long in a strict embrace she held her son,

And press’d his hand, and tender thus begun:

“O Hector! say, what great occasion calls

My son from fight, when Greece surrounds our walls;

Com’st thou to supplicate the almighty power

With lifted hands, from Ilion’s lofty tower?

Stay, till I bring the cup with Bacchus crown’d,

In Jove’s high name, to sprinkle on the ground,

And pay due vows to all the gods around.

Then with a plenteous draught refresh thy soul,

And draw new spirits from the generous bowl;

Spent as thou art with long laborious fight,

The brave defender of thy country’s right.”

“Far hence be Bacchus’ gifts; (the chief rejoin’d;)

Inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind,

Unnerves the limbs, and dulls the noble mind.

Let chiefs abstain, and spare the sacred juice

To sprinkle to the gods, its better use.

By me that holy office were profaned;

Ill fits it me, with human gore distain’d,

To the pure skies these horrid hands to raise,

Or offer heaven’s great Sire polluted praise.

You, with your matrons, go! a spotless train,

And burn rich odours in Minerva’s fane.

The largest mantle your full wardrobes hold,

Most prized for art, and labour’d o’er with gold,

Before the goddess’ honour’d knees be spread,

And twelve young heifers to her altar led.

So may the power, atoned by fervent prayer,

Our wives, our infants, and our city spare;

And far avert Tydides’ wasteful ire,

Who mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire.

Be this, O mother, your religious care:

I go to rouse soft Paris to the war;

If yet not lost to all the sense of shame,

The recreant warrior hear the voice of fame.

Oh, would kind earth the hateful wretch embrace,

That pest of Troy, that ruin of our race!¹⁷⁴

Deep to the dark abyss might he descend,

Troy yet should flourish, and my sorrows end.”

This heard, she gave command: and summon’d came

Each noble matron and illustrious dame.

The Phrygian queen to her rich wardrobe went,

Where treasured odours breathed a costly scent.

There lay the vestures of no vulgar art,

Sidonian maids embroider’d every part,

Whom from soft Sidon youthful Paris bore,

With Helen touching on the Tyrian shore.

Here, as the queen revolved with careful eyes

The various textures and the various dyes,

She chose a veil that shone superior far,

And glow’d refulgent as the morning star.

Herself with this the long procession leads;

The train majestically slow proceeds.

Soon as to Ilion’s topmost tower they come,

And awful reach the high Palladian dome,

Antenor’s consort, fair Theano, waits

As Pallas’ priestess, and unbars the gates.

With hands uplifted and imploring eyes,

They fill the dome with supplicating cries.

The priestess then the shining veil displays,

Placed on Minerva’s knees, and thus she prays:

“Oh awful goddess! ever-dreadful maid,

Troy’s strong defence, unconquer’d Pallas, aid!

Break thou Tydides’ spear, and let him fall

Prone on the dust before the Trojan wall!

So twelve young heifers, guiltless of the yoke,

Shall fill thy temple with a grateful smoke.

But thou, atoned by penitence and prayer,

Ourselves, our infants, and our city spare!”

So pray’d the priestess in her holy fane;

So vow’d the matrons, but they vow’d in vain.

While these appear before the power with prayers,

Hector to Paris’ lofty dome repairs.¹⁷⁵

Himself the mansion raised, from every part

Assembling architects of matchless art.

Near Priam’s court and Hector’s palace stands

The pompous structure, and the town commands.

A spear the hero bore of wondrous strength,

Of full ten cubits was the lance’s length,

The steely point with golden ringlets join’d,

Before him brandish’d, at each motion shined

Thus entering, in the glittering rooms he found

His brother-chief, whose useless arms lay round,

His eyes delighting with their splendid show,

Brightening the shield, and polishing the bow.

Beside him Helen with her virgins stands,

Guides their rich labours, and instructs their hands.

Him thus inactive, with an ardent look

The prince beheld, and high-resenting spoke.

“Thy hate to Troy, is this the time to show?

(O wretch ill-fated, and thy country’s foe!)

Paris and Greece against us both conspire,

Thy close resentment, and their vengeful ire.

For thee great Ilion’s guardian heroes fall,

Till heaps of dead alone defend her wall,

For thee the soldier bleeds, the matron mourns,

And wasteful war in all its fury burns.

Ungrateful man! deserves not this thy care,

Our troops to hearten, and our toils to share?

Rise, or behold the conquering flames ascend,

And all the Phrygian glories at an end.”

“Brother, ’tis just, (replied the beauteous youth,)