Mosaics of Grecian History Part 15

For sure such courage length of life denies, And thou must fall, thy virtue's sacrifice.

Greece in her single heroes strove in vain; Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be slain!

Oh grant me, G.o.ds! ere Hector meets his doom, All I can ask of heaven, an early tomb!

So shall my days in one sad tenor run, And end with sorrows as they first begun.

"No parent now remains my griefs to share, No father's aid, no mother's tender care.

The fierce Achilles wrapp'd our walls in fire, Laid The'be waste, and slew my warlike sire!

By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell; In one sad day beheld the gates of h.e.l.l.

My mother lived to bear the victor's bands, The queen of Hippopla'cia's sylvan lands.

"Yet, while my Hector still survives, I see My father, mother, brethren, all in thee: Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all Once more will perish, if my Hector fall.

Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share: Oh, prove a husband's and a father's care!

That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, Where yon wild fig-trees join the walls of Troy; Thou from this tower defend the important post; There Agamemnon points his dreadful host, That pa.s.s Tydi'des, Ajax, strive to gain, And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train.

Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given, Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven.

Let others in the field their arms employ, But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy."

The chief replied: "That post shall be my care, Nor that alone, but all the works of war.

How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown'd, And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground, Attaint the l.u.s.tre of my former name, Should Hector basely quit the field of fame!

My early youth was bred to martial pains, My soul impels me to the embattled plains: Let me be foremost to defend the throne, And guard my father's glories and my own.

"Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates; (How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!) The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend, Must see thy warriors fall, thy glories end.

And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind, My mother's death, the ruin of my kind, Not Priam's h.o.a.ry hairs defiled with gore, Not all my brothel's gasping on the sh.o.r.e, As thine, Andromache! thy griefs I dread.

"I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led!

In Argive looms our battles to design, And woes, of which so large a part was thine!

To bear the victor's hard commands, or bring The weight of waters from Hype'ria's spring.

There, while you groan beneath the load of life, They cry: 'Behold the mighty Hector's wife!'

Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see, Embitters all thy woes by naming me.

The thoughts of glory past, and present shame, A thousand griefs shall waken at the name!

May I lie cold before that dreadful day, Pressed with a load of monumental clay!

Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep, Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep."

Thus having spoke, the ill.u.s.trious chief of Troy Stretched his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy.

The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast, Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.

With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled, And Hector hasted to relieve his child; The glittering terrors from his brows unbound, And placed the beaming helmet on the ground.

Then kissed the child, and, lifting high in air, Thus to the G.o.ds preferred a father's prayer:

"O thou! whose glory fills the ethereal throne, And all ye deathless powers! protect my son!

Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown, To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown, Against his country's foes the war to wage, And rise the Hector of the future age!

So when triumphant from successful toils, Of heroes slain he bears the reeking spoils, Whole hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim, And say, 'This chief transcends his father's fame;'

While pleased, amidst the general shouts of Troy, His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy."

He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms, Restored the pleasing burden to her arms; Soft on her fragrant breast the babe he laid, Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey'd.

The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear, She mingled with the smile a tender tear.

The soften'd chief with kind compa.s.sion view'd, And dried the falling drops, and thus pursued:

"Andromache, my soul's far better part, Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart?

No hostile hand can antedate my doom, Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb.

Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth; And such the hard condition of our birth, No force can then resist, no flight can save-- All sink alike, the fearful and the brave.

No more--but hasten to thy tasks at home, There guide the spindle and direct the loom: Me, glory summons to the martial scene-- The field of combat is the sphere of men; Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, The first in danger, as the first in fame."

Thus having said, the glorious chief resumes His towery helmet black with shading plumes.

His princess parts with a prophetic sigh, Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye, That stream'd at every look; then, moving slow, Sought her own palace and indulged her woe.

There, while her tears deplored the G.o.dlike man, Through all her train the soft infection ran: The pious maids their mingled sorrows shed, And mourn the living Hector as the dead.

--B. VI. POPE'S. Trans.

HECTOR'S EXPLOITS, AND DEATH OF PATRO'CLUS.

Hector hastened to the field, and there his exploits aroused the enthusiasm and courage of his countrymen; who drove back the Grecian hosts. Disheartened, the Greeks sent Ulysses and Ajax to Achilles to plead with that warrior for his return with his forces to the Grecian camp. But Achilles obstinately refused to take part in the conflict, which was continued with varying success, until the Trojans succeeded in breaking through the Grecian wall, and attempted to fire the Greek s.h.i.+ps, which were saved by the valor of Ajax. In compliance with the request of the aged Nestor, however, of whom the poet YOUNG tells us that--

When Nestor spoke, none asked if he prevailed; That G.o.d of sweet persuasion never failed--

Achilles now placed his own armor on Patroclus, and, giving him also his s.h.i.+eld, sent him to the aid of the Greeks. The Trojans, supposing Patroclus to be the famous Achilles, became panic-stricken, and were pursued with great slaughter to the walls of Troy.

Apollo now goes to the aid of the Trojans, smites Patroclus, whose armor is strewn on the plain, and then the hero is killed by Hector, who proudly places the plume of Achilles on his own helmet.

His spear in s.h.i.+vers falls; his ample s.h.i.+eld Drops from his arm; his baldric strews the field; The corslet his astonished breast forsakes; Loose is each joint; each nerve with horror shakes; Stupid he stares, and all a.s.sistless stands: Such is the force of more than mortal hands.

Achilles' plume is stained with dust and gore: That plume which never stooped to earth before, Long used, untouched, in fighting fields to s.h.i.+ne, And shade the temples of the mad divine.

Jove dooms it now on Hector's helm to nod; Not long--for fate pursues him, and the G.o.d.

--B. XVI.

Then ensued a most terrific conflict for the body of the slain warrior, in which Ajax, Glaucus, Hector, aeneas, and Menelaus partic.i.p.ated, the latter finally succeeding in bearing it off to the s.h.i.+ps. The grief of Achilles over the body of his friend, and at the loss of his wonderful armor, is represented as being intense; and so great a blow to the Greeks was the loss of the armor considered, that Vulcan formed for Achilles a new one, and also a new s.h.i.+eld. Homer's description of the latter piece of marvelous workmans.h.i.+p--which is often referred to as a truthful picture of the times, and especially of the advanced condition of some of the arts and sciences in the Heroic, or post-Heroic, age--is too long for insertion here entire; but we proceed to give sufficient extracts from it to show at least the magnificent conception of the poet.

How Vulcan Formed the s.h.i.+eld of Achilles.

He first a vast and ma.s.sive buckler made; There all the wonders of his work displayed, With silver belt adorned, and triply wound, Orb within orb, the border beaming round.

Five plates composed the s.h.i.+eld; these Vulcan's art Charged with his skilful mind each varied part.

There earth, there heaven appeared; there ocean flowed; There the orbed moon and sun unwearied glowed; There every star that gems the brow of night-- Ple'iads and Hy'ads, and O-ri'on's might; The Bear, that, watchful in his ceaseless roll Around the star whose light illumes the pole, Still eyes Orion, nor e'er stoops to lave His beams unconscious of the ocean wave.

There, by the G.o.d's creative power revealed, Two stately cities filled with life the s.h.i.+eld.

Here nuptials--solemn rites--and throngs of gay a.s.sembled guests; forth issuing filled the way.

Bright blazed the torches as they swept along Through streets that rung with hymeneal song; And while gay youths, swift circling round and round, Danced to the pipe and harp's harmonious sound, The women thronged, and wondering as they viewed, Stood in each portal and the pomp pursued.

Next on the s.h.i.+eld a forum met the view; Two men, contending, there a concourse drew: A citizen was slain; keen rose the strife-- 'Twas compensation claim'd for loss of life.

This swore, the mulct for blood was strictly paid: This, that the fine long due was yet delayed.

Both claim'd th' award and bade the laws decide; And partial numbers, ranged on either side, With eager clamors for decision call, Till the feared heralds seat and silence all.

There the h.o.a.r elders, in their sacred place, On seats of polished stone the circle grace; Rise with a herald's sceptre, weigh the cause, And speak in turn the sentence of the laws; While, in the midst, for him to bear away Who rightliest spoke, two golden talents lay.

The other city on the s.h.i.+eld displayed Two hosts that girt it, in bright mail arrayed; Diverse their counsel: these to burn decide, And those to seize, and all its wealth divide.

The town their summons scorned, resistance dared, And secretly for ambush arms prepared.

Wife, grandsire, child, one soul alike in all, Stand on the battlements and guard the wall.

Mars, Pallas, led their host: gold either G.o.d, A golden radiance from their armor flowed.

Next, described as displayed on the s.h.i.+eld, is a picture of spies at a distance, an ambuscade, and a battle; the scene then changes to ploughing and sowing, and the incidents connected with the gathering of a bountiful harvest; then are introduced a vineyard, the gathering of the grapes, and a merrymaking by the youths at the close of the day; then we have a wild outlying scene of herdsmen with their cattle, the latter attacked by two famished lions, and the tumult that followed. The description closes as follows:

Now the G.o.d's changeful artifice displayed Fair flocks at pasture in a lovely glade; And folds and sheltering stalls peeped up between, And shepherd-huts diversified the scene.