O, could I meet him! But I wish too late,
To prove my trident is not in his fate.
But let him try (for that's allow'd) thy dart,
And pierce his only penetrable part.

Apollo bows to the superior throne;
And to his uncle's anger adds his own.
Then, in a cloud involv'd, he takes his flight,
Where Greeks and Trojans mix'd in mortal
fight;

And found out Paris, lurking where he stood,
And stain'd his arrows with plebeian blood:
Phoebus to him alone the god confess'd,
Then to the recreant knight he thus address'd:
Dost thou not blush, to spend thy shafts in
vain

On a degenerate and ignoble train?
If fame, or better vengeance, be thy care,
There aim: and, with one arrow, end the war.
He said; and show'd from far the blazing
shield

And sword, which but Achilles none could wield;

THE SPEECHES OF AJAX AND ULYSSES:

From the Thirteenth Book of Ovid's Metamorphoses.

THE chiefs were set, the soldiers crown'd the field:

To these the master of the sevenfold shield
Upstarted fierce and kindled with disdain
Eager to speak, unable to contain

His boiling rage, he roll'd his eyes around
The shore, and Grecian galleys hal'd aground.
Then stretching out his hands, O Jove, he cried,
Must then our cause before the fleet be tried?
And dares Ulysses for the prize contend,
In sight of what he durst not once defend?
But basely fled, that memorable day,
When I from Hector's hands redeem'd the
flaming prey.

So much 't is safer at the noisy bar
With words to flourish, than engage in war.

The deity himself directs aright

The envenom'd shaft; and wings the fatal flight,

Thus fell the foremost of the Grecian name, And he, the base adulterer, boasts the fame. A spectacle to glad the Trojan train; And please old Priam, after Hector slain. If by a female hand he had foreseen He was to die, his wish had rather been The lance and double axe of the fair warrior queen.

And now, the terror of the Trojan field,

The Grecian honour, ornament, and shield,
High on a pile the unconquer'd chief is plac'd
The god, that arm'd him first, consum'd at
last.

Of all the mighty man, the small remains
A little urn, and scarcely fill'd, contains.
Yet great in Homer, still Achilles lives
And, equal to himself, himself survives.

His buckler owns its former lord; and brings
New cause of strife betwixt contending kings;
Who worthiest, after him, his sword to wield,
Or wear his armour, or sustain his shield.
E'en Diomede sat mute, with downcast eyes;
Conscious of wanted worth to win the prize :
Nor Menelaus presum'd these arms to claim,
Nor he the king of men, a greater name.
Two rivals only rose: Laertes' son,
And the vast bulk of Ajax Telamon.
The king, who cherish'd each with equal love,
And from himself all envy would remove,
Left both to be determin'd by the laws;
And to the Grecian chiefs transferr'd the cause.

Nor am I made to talk, nor he to fight.

In bloody fields I labour to be great;
His arms are a smooth tongue, and soft deceit.
Nor need I speak my deeds, for those you see
The sun and day are witnesses for me.
Let him who fights unseen relate his own,
And vouch the silent stars, and conscious moon.
Great is the prize demanded, I confess,
But such an abject rival makes it less.
That gift, those honours, he but hop'd to gain,
Can leave no room for Ajax to be vain :
Losing he wins, because his name will be
Ennobled by defeat, who durst contend with me.
Were mine own valour question'd, yet my blood
Without that plea would make my title good:
My sire was Telamon, whose arms, employ'd
With Hercules, these Trojan walls destroy'd;
And who before, with Jason, sent from Greece,
In the first ship brought home the golden fleece:
Great Telamon from Eacus derives
His birth (the inquisitor of guilty lives
In shades below; where Sisyphus, whose son
This thief is thought, rolls up the restless heavy
Just Eacus the king of gods above
Begot; thus Ajax is the third from Jove.
Nor should I seek advantage from my line,
Unless (Achilles) it were mix'd with thine:
As next of kin Achilles' arms I claim;
This fellow would ingraft a foreign name
Upon our stock, and the Sisyphian seed
By fraud and theft asserts his father's breed.
Then must I lose these arms, because I came
To fight uncall'd, a voluntary name?
Nor shunn'd the cause, but offer'd you my aid,
While he long lurking was to war beray'd:

[stone,;

Forc'd to the field he came, but in the rear;
And feign'd distraction to conceal his fear:
Till one more cunning caught him in the snare,
(Ill for himself) and dragg'd him into war.
Now let a hero's arms a coward vest,

best;

And let me stand excluded from my right, Robb'd of my kinsman's arms, who first appear'd in fight.

Better for us, at home he had remain'd,
Had it been true the madness which he feign'd,
Or so believ'd; the less had been our shame,
The less his counsel'd crime, which brands the
Grecian name;

Nor Philoctetes had been left enclos'd
In a bare isle, to wants and pains expos'd,
Where to the rocks, with solitary groans
His suff'rings and our baseness he bemoans;
And wishes (so may heav'n his wish fulfil)
The due reward to him who caus'd his ill.
Now he, with us to Troy's destruction sworn,
Our brother of the war, by whom are born
Alcides' arrows, pent in narrow bounds,
With cold and hunger pinch'd, and pain'd with
wounds,

To find him food and clothing, must employ
Against the birds the shafts due to the fate of
Troy.

Yet still he lives, and lives from treason free,
Because he left Ulysses' company:
Poor Palamede night wish, so void of aid
Rather to have been left, than so to death be-
tray'd.

The coward bore the man immortal spite,
Who sham'd him out of madness into fight:
Nor daring otherwise to vent his hate,
Accus'd him first of treason to the state;
And then, for proof, produc'd the golden store
Himself had hidden in his tent before:
Thus of two champions he depriv'd our host,
By exile one, and one by treason lost.
Thus fights Ulysses, thus his fame extends,
A formidable man, but to his friends:
Great, for what greatness is in words and sound:
E'en faithful Nestor less in both is found:
But that he might without a rival reign,
He left his faithful Nestor on the plain;
Forsook his friend e'en at his utmost need,
Who tir'd and tardy, with his wounded steed
Cried out for aid, and call'd him by his name;
But cowardice has neither ears nor shame :
Thus fled the good old man, bereft of aid,
And, for as much as lay in him, betray'd.
That this is not a fable forg'd by me,
Like one of his, an Ulyssean lie,

I vouch e'en Diomede, who, though his friend
Cannot that act excuse, much less defend:

No wonder, if he roar'd that all might hear,
His elocution was increas'd by fear:

I heard, I ran, I found him out of breath,
Pale, trembling, and half dead with fear of
death.

Though he had judg'd himself by his own laws, And stood condemn'd, I help'd the common

cause:

With my
broad buckler hid him from the foe;
(E'en the shield trembled as he lay below ;)
And from inpending fate the coward freed:
Good heaven forgive me for so bad a deed!
If still he will persist, and urge the strife,
First let him give me back his forfeit life;
Let him return to that opprobrious field:
Again creep under my protecting shield:
Let him lie wounded, let the foe be near,
And let his quivering heart confess his fear ;
There put him in the very jaws of fate;
And let him plead his cause in that estate :
And yet, when snatch'd from death, when from
below

My lifted shield I loos'd, and let him go,
Good heavens, how light he rose, with what a
bound

He
sprung from earth, forgetful of his wound :
How fresh, how eager then his feet to ply;
Who had not strength to stand, had speed to

fly!

Hector came on, and brought the gods along, Fear seiz'd alike the feeble and the strong: Each Greek was an Ulysses; such a dread Th' approach, and e'en the sound of Hector bred:

Him, flesh'd with slaughter, and with conquest

crown'd,

I met, and overturn'd him to the ground.
When after, matchless as he deem'd in might,
He challeng'd all our host to single fight,
All eyes were fix'd on me : the lots were thrown;
But for your champion I was wish'd alone:
Your vows were heard, we fought, and neither

yield;

Yet I return'd unvanquish'd from the field. With Jove to friend th' insulting Trojan came, And menac'd us with force, our fleet with

flame:

Was it the strength of this tongue-valiant lord, In that black hour, that sav'd you from the

sword;

Or was my breast expos'd alone, to brave
A thousand swords, a thousand ships to save

The hopes of your return! and can you yield,
For a sav'd fleet, less than a single shield?
Think it no boast, O Grecians, if I deem
These arms want Ajax, more than Ajax them,
Or, I with them an equal honour share;
They honour'd to be worn, and I to wear.
Will he compare my courage with his flight?
As well he may compare the day with night.
Night is indeed the province of his reign:
Yet all his dark exploits no more contain
Than a spy taken, and a sleeper slain;
A priest made pris'ner, Pallas made a prey:
But none of all these actions done by day :
Nor aught of these was done, and Diomede
away.

If on such petty merits you confer

So vast a prize, let each his portion share; • Make a just dividend: and if not all, The greater part to Diomede will fall. But why for Ithacus such arms as those, Who naked and by night invades his foes? The glittering helm by moonlight will proclaim The latent robber, and prevent his game: Nor could he hold his tott'ring head upright Beneath that motion, or sustain the weight; Nor that right arm could toss the beamy lance; Much less the left that ampler shield advance; Pond'rous with precious weight, and rough with

cost

Of the round world in rising gold emboss'd.
That orb would ill become his hand to wield,
And look as for the gold he stole the shield;
Which should your error on the wretch bestow
It would not frighten, but allure the foe:
Why asks he what avails him not in fight,
And would but cumber and retard his flight,
In which his only excellence is plac'd?
You give him death, that intercept his haste
Add, that his own is yet a maiden shield,
Nor the least dint has suffer'd in the field,
Guiltless of fight: mine batter'd, hew'd, and
bor'd,

Worn out of service, must forsake his lord.
What farther need of words our right to scan?
My arguments are deeds, let action speak the

man.

Since from a champion's arms the strife arose,
So cast the glorious prize amid the foes;
Then send us to redeem both arms and shield,
And let him wear who wins 'em in the field.
He said a murmur from the multitude,
Or somewhat like a stifled shout, ensu'd
Till from his seat arose Laertes' son,
Look'd down a while, and paus'd ere he begun;
Then to the expecting audience rais'd his look,
And not without prepar'd attention spoke :
Soft was his tone, and sober was his face;
Action his words, and words his action grace.

If heaven, my lords, had heard our common
pray'r,

These arms had caus'd no quarrel for an heir;
Still great Achilles had his own possess'd
And we with great Achilles had been bless'd.
But since hard fate, and heaven's severe decree,
Have ravish'd him away from you and me,
(At this he sigh'd, and wip'd his eyes, a and drew,
Or seem'd to draw, some drops of kindly dew ;)
Who better can succeed Achilles lost,
Than he who gave Achilles to your host?
This only I request, that neither he
May gain, by being what he seems to be,
A stupid thing, nor I may lose the prize,
By having sense, which heaven to him denies :
Since, great, or small, the talent I enjoy'd
Was ever in the common cause employ'd;
Nor let my wit, and wonted eloquence,
Which often has been us'd in your defence
And in my own, this only time be brought
To bear against myself, and deem'd a fault.
Make not a crime, where nature made it none
For every man may freely use his own.
The deeds of long descended ancestors
Are but by grace of imputation ours,

Theirs in effect: but since he draws his line
From Jove, and seems to plead a right divine;
From Jove like him, I claim my pedigree,
And am descended in the same degree:
My sire Laertes was Arcesius' heir,
Arcesius was the son of Jupiter:
No parricide, no banish'd man, is known
In all my line: let him excuse his own.
Hermes ennobles too my mother's side,
By both my parents to the gods allied;
But not because that on the female part
My blood is better, dare I claim desert,
Or that my sire from parricide is free,
But judge by merit betwixt him and me:
The prize be to the best; provided yet,
That Ajax for a while his kin forget,
And his great sire, and greater uncle's name,
To fortify by them his feeble claim:
Be kindred and relation laid aside,
And honour's cause by laws of honour tried:
For, if he plead proximity of blood,
That empty title is with ease withstood.
Peleus, the hero's sire, more nigh than he,
And Pyrrhus his undoubted progeny,
Inherit first these trophies of the field;
To Scyros, or to Phthia, send the shield:
And Teucer has an uncle's right; yet he
Waves his pretensions, nor contends with me.
Then, since the cause on pure desert is

plac'd,

Whence shall I take my rise, what reckon last?
I not presume on every act to dwell,
But take these few in order as they fell.

Thetis, who knew the fates, applied her care To keep Achilles in disguise from war; And till the threat'ning influence were past, A woman's habit on the hero cast: All eyes were cozen'd by the borrow'd vest, And Ajax (never wiser than the rest) Found no Pelides there: at length I came With proffer'd wares to this pretended dame; She, not discover'd by her mien of voice, Betray'd her manhood by her manly choice; And while on female toys her fellows look, Grasp'd in her warlike hand, a javelin shook; Whom, by this act reveal'd, I thus bespoke ; O goddess born! resist not heaven's decree, The fall of Ilium is reserv'd for thee; Then seiz'd him, and, produc'd in open light; Sent blushing to the field the fatal knight. Mine then are all his actions of the war; Great Telephus was conquer'd by my spear, And after cur'd: to me the Thebans owe Lesbos and Tenedos, their overthrow; Scyros and Cylla: not on all to dwell, By me Lyrnesus and strong Chrysa fell: And since I sent the man who Hector slew, To me the noble Hector's death is due : Those arms I put into his living hand, Those arms, Pelides dead, I now demand.

When Greece was injur'd in the Spartan prince,

And met at Aulis to revenge the offence,
'T was a dead calm, or adverse blasts, that
reign'd,

And in the port the wind-bound fleet detain'd:
Bad signs were seen, and oracles severe
Were daily thunder'd in our general's ear:
That by his daughter's blood we must appease
Diana's kindled wrath, and free the seas.
Affection, interest, fame, his heart assail'd;
But soon the father o'er the king prevail'd:
Bold, on himself he took the pious crime
As angry with the gods, as they with him.
No subject could sustain their sov'reign's look,
Till this hard enterprise I undertook:
I only durst th' imperial pow'r control,
And undermin'd the parent in his soul
Forc'd him to exert the king for common good,
And pay our ransom with his daughter's blood.
Never was cause more difficult to plead,
Than where the judge against himself decreed:
Yet this I won by dint of argument;
The wrongs his injur'd brother underwent,
And his own office, sham'd him to consent.
"T was harder yet to move the mother's mind,
And to this heavy task was I design'd:
Reasons against her love I knew were vain:
I circumvented whom I could not gain :
Had Ajax been employ'd, our slacken'd sails
Had still at Aulis waited happy gales.

Arriv'd at Troy, your choice was fix'd on me, A fearless envoy, fit for a bold embassy : Secure, I enter'd through the hostile court, Glittering with steel, and crowded with resort: There in the midst of arms, I plead our cause, Urge the foul rape, and violated laws; Accuse the foes, as authors of the strife, Reproach the ravisher, demand the wife. Priam, Antenor, and the wiser few,

I mov'd; but Paris and his lawless crew Scarce held their hands, and lifted swords: but stood

In act to quench their impious thirst of blood: This Menelaus knows; expos'd to share With me the rough preludium of the war.

Endless it were to tell what I have done, In arms, or counsel, since the siege begun : The first encounters pass'd, the foe repell'd, They skulk'd within the town, we kept the field. War seem'd asleep for nine long years; at length,

Both sides resolv'd to push, we tried our strength.

Now what did Ajax while our arms took breath, Vers'd only in the gross mechanic trade of

death?

If you require my deeds, with ambush'd arms
I trapp'd the foe, or tir'd with false alarms;
Secur'd the ships, drew lines along the plain,
The fainting cheer'd, chastis'd the rebel train,
Provided forage, our spent arms renew'd;
Employ'd at home, or sent abroad, the common
cause pursu'd.

The king, deluded in a dream by Jove, Despair'd to take the town, and order'd to re

move.

What subject durst arraign the power supreme,
Producing Jove to justify his dream?
Ajax might wish the soldiers to retain
From shameful flight, but wishes were in vain;
As wanting of effect had been his words,
Such as of course his thund'ring tongue affords.
But did this boaster threaten, did he pray,
Or by his own example urge their stay?
None, none of these, but ran himself away
I saw him run, and was asham'd to see;
Who plied his feet so fast to get aboard as he?
Then speeding through the place, I made a
stand,

And loudly cried, O base degen'rate band,
To leave a town already in your hand!
After so long expense of blood, for fame,
To bring home nothing but perpetual shame;
These words, or what I have forgotten since,
(For grief inspir'd me then with eloquence,)
Reduc'd their minds, they leave the crowded

Dismay'd the council met: this man was there,
But mute, and not recover'd of his fear:
Thersites tax'd the king, and loudly rail'd,
But his wide opening mouth with blows I seal'd.
Then rising, I excite their souls to fame,
And kindle sleeping virtue into flame,
From thence, whatever he perform'd in fight
Is justly mine, who drew him back from flight,
Which of the Grecian chiefs consorts with
thee?

But Diomede desires my company,
And still communicates his praise with me.
As guided by a god, secure he goes,
Arm'd with my fellowship, amid the foes:
And sure no little merit I may boast,
Whom such a man selects from such an host;
Unforc'd by lots I went without affright,
To dare with him the dangers of the night:
On the same errand sent, we met the spy
Of Hector, double tongu'd, and us'd to lie;
Him I despatch'd, but not till, undermin'd,
I drew him first to tell what treacherous Troy
design'd:

My task perform'd, with praise I had retir'd, But not content with this, to greater praise aspir'd;

Invaded Rhesus, and his Thracian crew,
And him, and his, in their own strength, I slew;
Return'd a victor, all my vows complete,
With the king's chariot, in his royal seat:
Refuse me now his arms, whose fiery steed
Were promis'd to the spy for his nocturnal
deeds:

And let dull Ajax bear away my right,
When all his days outbalance this one night.
Nor fought I darkling still: the sun beheld
With slaughter'd Lycians when I strew'd the
field:

You saw,

and counted as I pass'd along, Alastor, Cromius, Ceranos the strong, Alcander, Prytanis, and Halius, Noemon, Charopes, and Ennomus

Choon, Chersidamas; and five beside,

Men of obscure descent, but courage tried:

All these this hand laid breathless on the ground;

Nor want I proofs of many a manly wound:
All honest, all before: believe not me ;
Words may deceive, but credit what
you see.
At this he bar'd his breast, and show'd his
scars,

As of a furrow'd field, well plough'd with wars;
Nor is this part unexercis'd, said he;
The giant bulk of his from wounds is free:
Safe in his shield he fears no foe to try,
And better manages his blood than I:
But this avails me not; our boaster strove
Not with our foes alone, but partial Jove,

To save the fleet: this I confoss is true,
(Nor will I take from any man his due :)
But thus assuming all, he robs from you.
Some part of honour to your share will fall,
He did the best indeed, but did not all.
Patroclus, in Achilles' arms, and thought
The chief he seem'd, with equal ardour fought;
Preserv'd the fleet, repell'd the raging fire,
And forc'd the fearful Trojans to retire.

But Ajax boasts, that he was only thought
A match for Hector, who the combat sought
Sure he forgets the king, the chiefs, and me;
All were as eager for the fight as he;
He but the ninth, and, not by public voice
Or ours preferr'd, was only fortune's choice:
They fought, nor can our hero boast th' event,
For Hector from the field unwounded went.

Why am I forc'd to name that fatal day, That snatch'd the prop and pride of Greece away?

I saw Pelides sink, with pious grief,
And ran in vain, alas! to his relief;
For the brave soul was fled: full of my friend
I rush'd amid the war, his relics to defend:
Nor ceas'd my toil till I redeem'd the prey,
And, loaded with Achilles, march'd away :
Those arms, which on these shoulders then I
bore,

"T is just you to these shoulders should restore.
You see I want not nerves, who could sustain
The pond'rous ruins of so great a man:
Or if in others equal force
you find,
None is endu'd with a more grateful mind.
Did Thetis then, ambitious in her care,
These arms thus labour'd for her son prepare ;
That Ajax after him the heav'nly gift should
wear?

For that dull soul to stare, with stupid eyes,
On the learn'd unintelligible prize!
What are to him the sculptures of the shield,
Heaven's planets, earth, and ocean's wat'ry
field ?

The Pleiads, Hyads; less and greater Bear,
Undipp'd in seas; Orion's angry star;
Two diff'ring cities, grav'd on either hand?
Would he wear arms he cannot understand?
Beside, what wise objections he prepares
Against my late accession to the wars?
Does not the fool perceive his argument
Is with more force against Achilles bent?
For, if dissembling be so great a crime,
The fault is common, and the same in him
And if he taxes both of long delay
My guilt is less, who sooner came away.
His pious mother, anxious for his life,
Detain'd her son; and me, my pious wife.
To them the blossoms of our youth were due :
Our riper manhood we reserv'd for you.