Part 32 (2/2)
Sternly he spoke, and as the wretch prepared With hu swift the wrathful falchion flew, Divides the neck, and cuts the nerves in two; One instant snatch'd his tre, mutter'd as it fell
The furry helrey hide, the unbended bow and spear; These great Ulysses lifting to the skies, To favouring Pallas dedicates the prize:
”Great queen of arms, receive this hostile spoil, And let the Thracian steeds reward our toil; Thee, first of all the heavenly host, we praise; O speed our labours, and direct our ways!”
This said, the spoils, with dropping gore defaced, High on a spreading tahs the plain, To guide their footsteps to the place again
Through the still night they cross the devious fields, Slippery with blood, o'er ar where the Thracian squadrons lay, And eased in sleep the labours of the day
Ranged in three lines they view the prostrate band: The horses yoked beside each warrior stand
Their arh the brown shade the fulgid weapons shi+ned: Amidst lay Rhesus, stretch'd in sleep profound, And the white steeds behind his chariot bound
The welcoht Ulysses first descries, And points to Dio prize
”The man, the coursers, and the car behold!
Described by Dolon, with the are try, Approach the chariot, and the steeds untie; Or if thy soul aspire to fiercer deeds, Urge thou the slaughter, while I seize the steeds”
Pallas (this said) her hero's boso his nervous arms; Where'er he pass'd, a purple stream pursued His thirsty falchion, fat with hostile blood, Bathed all his footsteps, dyed the fields with gore, And a low groan rerihtly den, O'erleaps the fences, and invades the pen, On sheep or goats, resistless in his way, He falls, and foauardless prey; Nor stopp'd the fury of his vengeful hand, Till twelve lay breathless of the Thracian band
Ulysses following, as his partner slew, Back by the foot each slaughter'd warrior drew; The milk-white coursers studious to convey Safe to the shi+ps, he wisely cleared the way: Lest the fierce steeds, not yet to battles bred, Should start, and tremble at the heaps of dead
Noelve despatch'd, the round
Just then a deathful dream Minerva sent, A warlike form appear'd before his tent, Whose visionary steel his bosom tore: So dream'd the monarch, and awaked no more(218)
Ulysses now the snowy steeds detains, And leads them, fasten'd by the silver reins; These, with his bow unbent, he lash'd along; (The scourge forgot, on Rhesus' chariot hung;) Then gave his friend the signal to retire; But hiers, new achieve blade To sendoff the car where Rhesus' armour lay, Or heave with manly force, and lift away
While unresolved the son of Tydeus stands, Pallas appears, and thus her chief cohter cease, Regard thy safety, and depart in peace; Haste to the shi+ps, the gotten spoils enjoy, Nor tempt too far the hostile Gods of Troy”
The voice divine confess'd the martial maid; In haste he mounted, and her word obey'd; The coursers fly before Ulysses' boift as the wind, and white as winter-snow
Not unobserved they pass'd: the God of light Had watch'd his Troy, and ht, Saw Tydeus' son with heavenly succour bless'd, And vengeful anger fill'd his sacred breast
Swift to the Trojan ca-hour; (On Rhesus' side accustom'd to attend, A faithful kinsman, and instructive friend;) He rose, and saw the field deform'd with blood, An empty space where late the coursers stood, The yet-war on the coast; For each he wept, but for his Rhesus athering tumult spreads o'er all the plain; On heaps the Trojans rush, ild affright, And wondering view the slaughters of the night
Meanwhile the chiefs, arriving at the shade Where late the spoils of Hector's spy were laid, Ulysses stopp'd; to hiore: Then ain their nimbler feet The coursers ply, and thunder towards the fleet
[Illustration: DIOMED AND ULYSSES RETURNING WITH THE SPOILS OF RHESUS]
DIOMED AND ULYSSES RETURNING WITH THE SPOILS OF RHESUS
Old Nestor first perceived the approaching sound, Bespeaking thus the Grecian peers around: ”Methinks the noise of tra on my ear; Perhaps some horses of the Trojan breed (So reat Tydides and Ulysses bear, Return'd triumphant with this prize of war
Yet much I fear (ah, may that fear be vain!) The chiefs outnumber'd by the Trojan train; Perhaps, even now pursued, they seek the shore; Or, oh! perhaps those heroes are no more”
Scarce had he spoke, when, lo! the chiefs appear, And spring to earth; the Greeks dismiss their fear: With words of friendshi+p and extended hands They greet the kings; and Nestor first demands:
”Say thou, whose praises all our host proclailory of the Grecian name!
Say whence these coursers? by what chance bestow'd, The spoil of foes, or present of a God?
Not those fair steeds, so radiant and so gay, That draw the burning chariot of the day
Old as I ale in the ht Like these, conspicuous through the ranks of fight
Solorious prize, Bless'd as ye are, and favourites of the skies; The care of him who bids the thunder roar, And her, whose fury bathes the world with gore”
”Father! not so, (sage Ithacus rejoin'd,) The gifts of heaven are of a nobler kind