Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/271

Both armies join; earth thunders, ocean roars.
Not half so loud the bellowing deeps resound,
When stormy winds disclose the dark profound;
Less loud the winds that from the Æolian hall
Roar through the woods, and make whole forests fall;
Less loud the woods, when flames in torrents pour,
Catch the dry mountain and its shades devour;
With such a rage the meeting hosts are driven,
And such a clamour shakes the sounding heaven.
The first bold javelin, urged by Hector's force,
Direct at Ajax' bosom winged its course;
But there no pass the crossing belts afford,
One braced his shield, and one sustained his sword.
Then back the disappointed Trojan drew,
And cursed the lance that unavailing flew:
But 'scaped not Ajax; his tempestuous hand
A ponderous stone up-heaving from the sand,
Where heaps, laid loose beneath the warrior's feet,
Or served to ballast, or to prop the fleet,
Tossed round and round, the missive marble flings;
On the raised shield the falling ruin rings;
Full on his breast and throat with force descends;
Nor deadened there its giddy fury spends,
But, whirling on, with many a fiery round,
Smokes in the dust, and ploughs into the ground.
As when the bolt, red-hissing from above,
Darts on the consecrated plant of Jove,
The mountain-oak in flaming ruin lies,
Black from the blow, and smokes of sulphur rise:
Stiff with amaze the pale beholders stand,
And own the terrors of the almighty hand!
So lies great Hector prostrate on the shore;
His slackened hand deserts the lance it bore;
His following shield the fallen chief o'erspread;
Beneath his helmet dropped his fainting head;
His load of armour, sinking to the ground,
Clanks on the field: a dead and hollow sound.
Loud shouts of triumph fill the crowded plain;
Greece sees, in hope, Troy's great defender slain:
All spring to seize him: storms of arrows fly,
And thicker javelins intercept the sky.
In vain an iron tempest hisses round:
He lies protected and without a wound.
Polydamas, Agenor the divine,
The pious warrior of Anchises' line,
And each bold leader of the Lysian band,
With covering shields, a friendly circle, stand.
His mournful followers, with assistant care,
The groaning hero to his chariot bear;