And hasten back to end the doubtful day."
This said, the towering chief prepares to go,
Shakes his white plumes that to the breezes flow,
And seems a moving mountain topped with snow.
Through all his host, inspiring force, he flies,
And bids anew the martial thunder rise.
To Panthus' son, at Hector's high command,
Haste the bold leaders of the Trojan band:
But round the battlements, and round the plain,
For many a chief he looked, but looked in vain;
Deïphobus, nor Helenus the seer,
Nor Asius' son, nor Asius' self appear.
For these were pierced with many a ghastly wound,
Some cold in death, some groaning on the ground;
Some low in dust, a mournful object, lay,
High on the wall some breathed their souls away.
Far on the left, amidst the throng he found,
Cheering the troops, and dealing deaths around,
The graceful Paris, whom, with fury moved,
Opprobrious, thus the impatient chief reproved:
"Ill-fated Paris, slave to womankind,[1]
As smooth of face as fraudulent of mind!
Where is Deïphobus, where Asius gone?
The godlike father, and the intrepid son?
The force of Helenus, dispensing fate,
And great Othryoneus, so feared of late?
Black fate hangs o'er thee from the avenging gods;
Imperial Troy from her foundation nods;
Whelmed in thy country's ruins shalt thou fall,
And one devouring vengeance swallow all."
When Paris thus: "My brother and my friend,
Thy warm impatience makes thy tongue offend.
In other battles I deserved thy blame,
Though then not deedless, nor unknown to fame:
But since yon rampart by thy arms lay low,
I scattered slaughter from my fatal bow.
The chiefs you seek, on yonder shore lie slain;
Of all those heroes, two alone remain;
Deïphobus, and Helenus the seer,
Each now disabled by a hostile spear.
Go then, successful, where thy soul inspires;
This heart and hand shall second all thy fires:
What with this arm I can, prepare to know,
Till death for death be paid, and blow for blow.
- ↑ The reproaches which Hector here casts on Paris give us the character of this hero, who in many things resembles Achilles. It is he who is obstinate in attacking the entrenchments, yet asks an account of those who were slain in the attack, from Paris.—Pope.
