Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/287

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557—605
BOOK XV
285

And quit the quiver for the ponderous shield.
In the first ranks indulge thy thirst of fame,
Thy brave example shall the rest inflame.
Fierce as they are, by long successes vain,
To force our fleet, or e'en a ship to gain,
Asks toil, and sweat, and blood: their utmost might
Shall find its match—No more; 'tis ours to fight."
Then Teucer laid his faithless bow aside:
The fourfold buckler o'er his shoulder tied;
On his brave head a crested helm he placed,
With nodding horsehair formidably graced;
A dart, whose point with brass refulgent shines,
The warrior wields; and his great brother joins.
This Hector saw, and thus expressed his joy:
"Ye troops of Lycia, Dardanus, and Troy!
Be mindful of yourselves, your ancient fame,
And spread your glory with the navy's flame.
Jove is with us; I saw his hand, but now,
From the proud archer strike his vaunted bow.
Indulgent Jove I how plain thy. favours shine,
When happy nations bear the marks divine!
How easy then to see the sinking state
Of realms accursed, deserted, reprobate;
Such is the fate of Greece, and such is ours:
Behold, ye warriors, and exert your powers.
Death is the worst; a fate which all must try;
And for our country 'tis a bliss to die.
The gallant man, though slain in fight he be,
Yet leaves his nation safe, his children free;
Entails a debt on all the grateful state;
His own brave friends shall glory in his fate;
His wife live honoured, all his race succeed,
And late posterity enjoy the deed!"
This roused the soul in every Trojan breast.
The godlike Ajax next his Greeks addressed:
"How long, ye warriors of the Argive race,
To generous Argos what a dire disgrace!
How long on these cursed confines will ye lie,
Yet undetermined, or to live, or die?
What hopes remain, what methods to retire,
If once your vessels catch the Trojan fire?
Mark how the flames approach, how near they fall,
How Hactor calls, and Troy obeys his call!
Not to the dance that dreadful voice invites;
It calls to death, and all the rage of fights.
'Tis now no time for wisdom or debates;
To your own hands are trusted all your fates:
And better far, in one decisive strife,

One day should end our labour, or our life,