The ruddy morning rises o'er the waves:
Soon as it rose, his furious steeds he joined;
The chariot flies, and Hector trails behind.
And thrice, Patroclus! round thy monument
Was Hector dragged, then hurried to the tent.
There sleep at last o'ercomes the hero's eyes;
While foul in dust the unhonoured carcass lies,
But not deserted by the pitying skies;
For Phoebus watched it with superior care,
Preserved from gaping wounds, and tainting air;
And, ignominious as it swept the field,
Spread o'er the sacred corse his golden shield.
All heaven was moved, and Hermes willed to go
By stealth to snatch him from the insulting foe:
But Neptune this, and Pallas this denies,
And the unrelenting empress of the skies:
E'er since that day implacable to Troy,
What time young Paris, simple shepherd boy,
Won by destructive lust, reward obscene,
Their charms rejected for the Cyprian queen.
But when the tenth celestial morning broke,
To heaven, assembled, thus Apollo spoke:
"Unpitying Powers I how oft each holy fane
Has Hector tinged with blood of victims slain?
And can ye still his cold remains pursue?
Still grudge his body to the Trojans' view?
Deny to consort, mother, son, and sire,
The last sad honours of a funeral fire?
Is then the dire Achilles all your care?
That iron heart, inflexibly severe,
A lion, not a man, who slaughters wide
In strength of rage and impotence of pride,
Who hastes to murder with a savage joy,
Invades around, and breathes but to destroy.
Shame is not of his soul; nor understood,
The greatest evil and the greatest good.[1]
Still for one loss he rages unresigned,
Repugnant to the lot of all mankind;
To lose a friend, a brother, or a son,
Heaven dooms each mortal, and its will is done:
Awhile they sorrow, then dismiss their care;
Fate gives the wound, and man is born to bear.
But this insatiate the commission given
By fate, exceeds; and tempts the wrath of heaven:
Lo how his rage dishonest drags along
- ↑ This is obscure. The original is, " He has no shame, shame which harms men much, and profits them much." Dr. Leat, following an ancient critic, thinks the passage an interpolation.
