Rhesus.

Chorus, Hector. Chor. Let some swift sentinel to Hector’s tent Go and inquire if any messenger Be yet arrived, who recent tidings bears From those, who during the fourth nightly watch Are by the host deputed. On your arm Sustain your head, unfold those low’ring eyelids, And from your lowly couch of withered leaves, O Hector, rise, for it is time to listen. Hec. Who comes? art thou a friend? pronounce the watchword. Who are ye, that by night approach my bed? Speak out. Chor. We guard the camp. Hec. Why com’st thou hither With this tumultuous haste? Chor. Be of good cheer. Hec. I am. Hast thou discovered in the camp This night some treachery? Chor. None. Hec. Why then deserting The post where thou art stationed, dost thou rouse The troops, unless thou through this midnight gloom Bring some important tidings? know’st thou not That near the Argive host we under arms Take our repose. Chor. Prepare your brave allies: Go to their chambers, bid them wield the spear, Rouse them from slumber, and despatch your friends To your own troop; caparison the steeds. Who bears the swift alarm to Pantheus’ son? Who to Europa’s offspring, Lycia’s chief? Where are the priests who should inspect the victims? Who leads the light-armed squadron to the field? And where are Phrygia’s archers? Let each bow Be strung. Hec. Thy tidings are in part alarming, In part thou giv’st us courage, though thou speak Nought plainly. By the terrifying scourge Of Pan hast thou been smitten, that thou leav’st Thy station to alarm the host? Explain These clamorous sounds. What tidings shall I say Thou bring’st? Thy words are many, but their drift I comprehend not. Chor. All night long, O Hector, The Grecian camp hath kindled fires, the torches Amid their fleet are blazing, and the host Tumultuous rush to Agamemnon’s tent, At midnight calling on the king t’ assemble A council: for the sailors never yet Were thus alarmed. But I, because I fear What may ensue, these tidings hither bring, Lest you should charge me with a breach of duty. Hec. Full seasonably thou com’st, although thou speak Words fraught with terror: for these dastards hope They in their barks shall from this shore escape Ere I discover them: their kindled fires Prove this suspicion. Thou, O partial Jove, Hast robbed me of my triumph, like the prey Torn from the lion, ere I have destroyed With this avenging spear the Grecian host. Had not the sun withdrawn his radiant beams, I the successful battle had prolonged Till I had burnt their ships, and hewn a way Through their encampments, and in slaughter drenched My bloody hand. I would have fought by night And taken my advantage of the gales Sent by auspicious fortune: but the wise, And seers who knew the will of Heaven, advised me To wait but till to-morrow’s dawn appeared, And then sweep every Grecian from the land. But now no longer will they stay to prove The truth of what my prophets have foretold: For cowards in the midnight gloom are brave. Instantly therefore through the host proclaim These orders: “Take up arms, and rouse from sleep;” Pierced through the back as to the ships he flies, So shall full many a dastard with his gore Distain the steep ascent; the rest fast bound In galling chains shall learn to till our fields. Chor. O Hector, ere you learn the real fact, You are too hasty: for we know not yet That they are flying. Hec. Wherefore then by night Are those fires kindled through the Grecian camp? Chor. I am not certain, though my soul full strongly Suspects the cause. Hec. If thou fear this, thou tremblest At a mere shadow. Chor. Such a light ne’er blazed Before among the foes. Hec. Nor such defeat In battle, did they e’er till now experience. Chor. This have you done; look now to what remains. Hec. I give this short direction: take up arms Against the foe. Chor. Behold! Æneas comes: Sure, from his haste, some tidings, which deserve His friends’ attentive ear, the warrior brings. Æneas, Hector, Chorus. Æne. What mean the watch, O Hector, who by night Were to their stations in the camp assigned, That they, with terror smitten, at your chamber In a nocturnal council have assembled? And why is the whole army thus in motion? Hec. Put on thy arms, Æneas. Æne. What hath happened? Are you informed that in this midnight gloom The foe hath formed some stratagem? Hec. They fly! They mount their ships. Æne. What proof have you of this? Hec. All night their torches blaze; to me they seem As if they would not wait to-morrow’s dawn: But, kindling fires upon their lofty decks, They sure fly homeward from this hostile land. Æne. But why, if it be thus, prepare your troops For battle? Hec. As they mount the deck, this spear Shall overtake the dastards; I their flight Will harass: for ’twere base, and prejudicial As well as base, when Heaven delivers up The foe into our hands, to suffer those Who wronged us to escape without a conflict. Æne. Ah! would to Heaven you equally stood foremost In wisdom, as in courage: but one man By bounteous Nature never was endued With knowledge universal: various gifts Doth she dispense, to you the warrior’s palm, To others sapient counsels: now you hear Their torches blaze, you thence infer the Greeks Are flying, and would lead the troops by night Over the trenches: but when you have passed The yawning fosse, should you perceive the foes Instead of flying from the land, resist, With dauntless courage, your protended spear, If you are vanquished, to these sheltering walls You never can return: for in their flight How shall the troops o’er slanting palisades Escape, or, how the charioteer direct Over the narrow bridge his crashing wheels? If you prevail, you have a foe at hand, The son of Peleus, from your flaming torches Who will protect the fleet, nor suffer you Utterly to destroy the Grecian host As you expect; for he is brave. Our troops Let us then leave to rest from martial toils, And sleep beside their shields. That we despatch Amid the foe some voluntary spy, Is my advice: if they prepare for flight, Let us assail the Greeks; but if those fires Are kindled to ensnare us, having learned The enemy’s intentions, let us hold A second council on this great emprise. Illustrious chief, I have declared my thoughts. Chorus. I. These counsels I approve: thy wayward scheme, O Hector, change, and think the same: For perilous commands I deem, Given by the headstrong chief, deserve our blame. Why send not to the fleet a spy, Who may approach the trenches, and descry With what intent our foes upon the strand Have kindled many a flaming brand? Hec. Ye have prevailed, because ye all concur In one opinion: but depart, prepare Thy fellow-soldiers, for perhaps the host May by the rumours of our nightly council Be put in motion. I will send a spy Among the Greeks; and if we learn what schemes They have devised, the whole of my intentions To thee will I immediately reveal In person. With confusion and dismay But if the foe precipitate their flight, Give ear, and follow where the clanging trump Summons thee forth, for then I cannot wait, But will this night attack the Grecian host, Storm their entrenchments, and destroy their fleet. Æne. Despatch the messenger without delay. For you now think discreetly, and in me Shall find, when needed, in your bold emprise A firm associate. [Exit Æneas. Hec. What brave Trojan, present At this our conference, as a spy will go T’ explore the Grecian navy? to this land What generous benefactor will arise? Who answers? for I singly cannot serve The cause of Troy and its confederate bands In every station. Dol. For my native realm, Facing this danger, to the fleet of Greece I as a spy will go; and when I’ve searched Into the progress of our foes, return: But I on these conditions undertake The toilsome enterprise—— Hec. Thou well deserv’st Thy name, and to thy country art a friend, O Dolon; for this day thy father’s house, Which is already noble, thou exalt’st With double fame. Dol. I therefore ought to strive: But after all my labours let me reap A suitable reward. If gain arise From the performance of the task enjoined, We feel a twofold joy. Hec. This were but just: I contradict thee not: name thy reward; Choose what thou wilt, except the rank I bear. Dol. Your rich domains I wish not to possess. Hec. To thee a daughter of imperial Priam In marriage shall be given. Dol. With my superiors I will not wed. Hec. Abundant gold is ours, If thou prefer this stipend. Dol. My own house With wealth is furnished, I am far remote From want. Hec. What then dost thou desire that Troy Contains? Dol. When you have conquered the proud Greeks, Promise to give me—— Hec. I will give thee all That thou canst ask, except my royal captives. Dol. Slay them; I seek not to withhold your arm From cutting off the vanquished Menelaus. Hec. Is it thy wish, Oileus’ son to thee Should be consigned? Dol. The hands of princes, nurtured Effeminately, are not formed to till The stubborn soil. Hec. From which of all the Greeks Taken alive wouldst thou receive his ransom? Dol. Already have I told you, that at home I have abundant riches. Hec. Thou shalt choose Among our spoils. Dol. For offerings let them hang High in the temples of the gods. Hec. What gift Greater than these canst thou from me require? Dol. Achilles’ steeds: for when I stake my life On Fortune’s die, ’twere reasonable to strive For such an object as deserves my toils. Hec. Although thou in thy wishes to possess Those steeds hast interfered with me: for sprung From an immortal race themselves immortal They bear Pelides through the ranks of war, Neptune, ’tis said, the king of ocean, tamed them And gave to Peleus: I, who prompted thee To this emprise, will not bely thy hopes, But to adorn thy noble father’s house, On thee Achilles’ generous steeds bestow. Dol. This claims my gratitude: if I succeed, My courage will for me obtain a palm, Such as no Phrygian ever won before: Nor should you envy me, for joys unnumbered And the first station in the realm, are yours. [Exit Hector. Chorus. II. The danger’s great, but great rewards allure Thee, generous youth, t’ assert thy claim, Thrice blest if thou the gift procure, Yet will thy toils deserve immortal fame: Th’ allies of kings let grandeur tend, May Heaven and Justice thy emprise befriend, For thou already seem’st to have acquired All that from man can be desired. Dol. I am resolved to go: but my own doors First must I enter, and myself attire In such a garb as suits my present scheme, Thence will I hasten to the Argive fleet. Chor. What other dress intend’st thou to assume Instead of that thou wear’st? Dol. Such as befits My errand and the stealth with which I travel. Chor. We ought to gain instruction from the wise. What covering hast thou chosen for thy body? Dol. I to my back will fit the tawny hide Of a slain wolf, will muffle up my front With the beast’s hairy visage, fit my hands To his fore-feet, thrust into those behind My legs, and imitate his savage gait; Approaching undiscovered by the foe, The trenches and the ramparts that defend The navy: but whenever I shall come To desert places, on two feet I mean To travel: such deception have I framed. Chor. May Hermes, Maïa’s offspring, who presides O’er well-conducted fallacies, assist Thy journey thither, and with safety lead Thy homeward steps! for well thou understand’st The business; there is nought which yet thou need’st But good success. Dol. I shall return in safety, And having slain Ulysses, or the son Of Tydeus, bring to you their ghastly heads: For omens of assured success are mine: Then say that Dolon reached the Grecian fleet. These hands distained with gore, my native walls Will I revisit ere the sun arise. [Exit Dolon. Chorus. ODE. I. 1. O thou, who issuing with majestic tread From Delian, Lycian, or Thymbræan fanes, Twang’st thy unerring bow; on Phrygia’s plains, Apollo, thy celestial influence shed, Hither come with nightly speed, The enterprising chief to lead Through mazes undiscovered by our foes; Aid thy loved Dardanian line, For matchless strength was ever thine, Constructed by thy hand Troy’s ancient bulwarks rose. I. 2. Speed Dolon’s journey to the Grecian fleet, Let him espy th’ entrenchments of their host; Again in triumph from the stormy coast Conduct the warrior to his native seat; May he mount that chariot drawn By steeds that browsed the Phthian lawn When our brave lord, the Mars of Greece, hath slain; Coursers of unrivalled speed, Which erst to Eacus’ seed To Peleus, Neptune gave who rules the billowy main. II. 1. His country, his paternal walls, to save, The generous youth explores the anchored fleet: From me such worth shall due encomiums meet. How few with hardy bosoms stem the wave, When Hyperion veils his face, And cities tremble on their base! At this dread crisis Phrygian heroes rise, Mysian chiefs, uncurbed by fear, Brandish with nervous arm the spear, Curst be the lying tongue that slanders my allies. II. 2. In savage guise now Dolon stalks arrayed, With step adventurous o’er the hostile ground: What Grecian chief shall feel the deadly wound, While the wolf’s hide conceals his glittering blade? Weltering first in crimson gore, May Menelaus rise no more; Next may the victor, Agamemnon’s head Bear to Helen, stung with grief At her affinity to that famed chief Who in a thousand ships to Troy his squadrons led. A Shepherd, Hector, Chorus. Shep. Most gracious monarch, may I ever greet My lords with tidings such as now I bring! Hec. Full oft misapprehension clouds the soul Of simple rustics: to thy lord in arms Thou of thy fleecy charge art come to speak At this unseemly crisis: know’st thou not My mansion, or the palace of my sire? There ought’st thou to relate how fare thy flock. Shep. We shepherds are, I own, a simple race, Yet my intelligence deserves attention. Hec. Such fortunes as befall the fold, to me Relate not, for I carry in this hand The battle and the spear. Shep. I too am come Such tidings to unfold; for a brave chief, Your friend, the leader of a numerous host, Marches to fight the battles of this realm. Hec. But from what country? Shep. Thrace, and he is called The son of Strymon. Hec. Didst thou say, that Rhesus Hath entered Ilion’s fields? Shep. You comprehend me, And have anticipated half my speech. Hec. Why doth he travel over Ida’s hill, Deserting that broad path where loaded wains With ease might move? Shep. I have no certain knowledge; Yet may we form conjectures; ’tis a scheme Most prudent, with his host to march by night Because he hears the plain with hostile bands Is covered: but us rustics he alarmed, Who dwell on Ida’s mount, the ancient seat Of Ilion’s first inhabitants, by night When through that wood, the haunt of savage beasts The warrior trod: for with a mighty shout The Thracian host rushed on, but we, our flocks, With terror smitten, to the summit drove, Lest any Greek should come to seize the prey, And waste your crowded stalls: till we discovered Voices so different from the Hellenian tribes, That we no longer feared them. I advanced, And in the Thracian language made inquiry Of the king’s vanguard, as they moved along To explore a passage for the host, what name Their leader bore, sprung from what noble sire, To Ilion’s walls he came, the friend of Priam. When I had heard each circumstance I wished To know, I for a time stood motionless, And saw majestic Rhesus, like a god, High in his chariot, drawn by Thracian steeds Whiter than snow, a golden beam confined Their necks, and o’er his shoulders hung a shield Adorned with sculptures wrought in massive gold; Like that which in Minerva’s Ægis flames, Bound on the courser’s front, a brazen Gorgon Tinkled incessant with alarming sound. The numbers of an army so immense I cannot calculate; the horse were many, Many the ranks of troops with bucklers armed, And archers; and a countless multitude, Like infantry in Thracian vests arrayed Brought up the rear. Such is th’ ally who comes On Troy’s behalf to combat; nor by flight, Nor by withstanding his protended spear, Can Peleus’ son escape him. Chor. When the gods Are to a realm propitious, each event Is easily converted into bliss. Hec. Since I in battle prosper, and since Jove Is on our side, I shall have many friends; But those we need not who in former time Our toils partook not, with malignant blast When on the sails of Ilion Mars had breathed. Rhesus hath shown too plainly what a friend He is to Troy, for to the feast he comes, Yet was he absent when the hunters seized Their prey, nor did he share the toils of war. Chor. You justly scorn such friends; yet, O receive Those who would aid the city. Hec. We who long Have guarded Ilion can defend it now. Chor. Are you persuaded you have gained already A triumph o’er the foes? Hec. I am persuaded, And when to-morrow’s sun the heaven ascends This shall be proved. Chor. Beware of what may happen; Jove oft o’erthrows the prosperous. Hec. I abhor These tardy succours. Shep. O, my lord, ’twere odious, Should you reject with scorn the proffered aid Of our allies: the sight of such a host Will strike the foe with terror. Chor. Since he comes But as a guest, not partner in the war, Let him approach your hospitable board, For little thanks are due from Priam’s sons To such confederates. Hec. Prudent are thy counsels, Thou too hast rightly judged: and in compliance With what the messenger hath said, let Rhesus Refulgent in his golden arms draw near, For Ilion shall receive him as her friend. [Exit Shepherd. Chorus. ODE. I. 1. Daughter of Jove, forbear to wreak Impending vengeance, though the tongue, O Nemesis, its boastful strain prolong: I the free dictates of my soul will speak. Thou com’st, brave son of that illustrious spring, Thou com’st thrice welcome to our social hall: At length doth thy Pierian mother bring Her favoured child, while ling’ring in his fall, Adorned by many a bridge, thee with paternal call. I. 2. Doth Strymon summon to the field: of yore When he the tuneful Muse addressed, A gliding stream he sought her snowy breast, Thee, lovely youth, the yielding goddess bore: To us thou com’st a tutelary power Yoking thy coursers to the fervid car: O Phrygia! O my country! at this hour Hastes thy deliverer glittering from afar, Him may’st thou call thy Jove, thy thunderbolt of war. II. 1. While swiftly glides th’ unheeded day, Again shall Troy without control Chant the young loves, and o’er the foaming bowl The sportive contest urge ’midst banquets gay; But Atreus’ sons desponding cross the wave, And sail from Ilion to the Spartan strand. Accomplish what thy friends foretold, O save These menaced walls by thy victorious hand, Return with laurels crowned, and bless thy native land. II. 2. To dazzle fierce Pelides’ sight, Before him wave thy golden shield Obliquely raised, that meteor of the field, Vault from thy chariot with unrivalled might, And brandish with each dexterous hand a lance; Whoever strives with thee shall ne’er return To Argive fanes, and join Saturnia’s dance, He by the spear of Thrace in combat slain, Shall lie a breathless corse on Troy’s exulting plain. Hail, mighty chief! ye Thracian realms, the mien Of him ye bore speaks his exalted rank. Observe those nervous limbs with plated gold Incased, and hearken to those tinkling chains Which on his shield are hung. A god, O Troy, E’en Mars himself, from Strymon’s current sprung, And from the Muse, brings this auspicious gale. Rhesus, Hector, Chorus. Rhe. Thou brave descendant of a noble sire, Lord of this realm, O Hector, I accost thee After a tedious absence, and rejoice In thy success, for to the turrets reared By Greece, thou now lay’st siege, and I am come With thee those hostile bulwarks to o’erthrow, And burn their fleet. Hec. Son of the tuneful Muse, And Thracian Strymon’s stream, I ever love To speak the truth, for I am not a man Versed in duplicity; long, long ago, Should you have come to succour Troy, nor suffered, Far as on you depended, by our foes This city to be ta’en. You cannot say That uninvited by your friends you came not, Because you marked not our distress. What heralds, What embassies to you did Phrygia send, Beseeching you, the city to protect, What sumptuous presents did she not bestow? But you, our kinsman, who derive your birth From a barbarian stem, to Greece betrayed Us, a barbarian nation, though from ruling Over a petty state, by this right arm I raised you to the wide-extended throne, When round Pangæum and Pæonia’s realm Rushing upon the hardiest Thracian troops I broke their ranks of battle, and subdued The people to your empire: but you spurn My benefits, nor come with speed to succour Your friends in their distress. Though they who spring not From the same ancestors, observed our summons; Of whom full many in yon field of death Have tombs heaped o’er them, a most glorious proof Of faith unshaken; others under arms Their chariots mount, and steadfastly endure The wintry blasts, the parching flames of heaven, Nor on a gay convivial couch reclined Like you, O Rhesus, drain the frequent bowl. That you may know I yet can stand alone, Such conduct I resent; this to your face I speak. Rhe. I also am the same: my language Is plain and honest; I am not a man Of mean duplicity. My soul was tortured With greater anguish far than thou couldst feel, Because I was not present in this land; But Scythia’s tribes who near our confines dwell Made war against me just as I to Troy Was journeying; I had reached the Euxine shore To sail with Thracia’s host, the Scythian blood There stained our spears, and my brave troops expired ’Midst intermingled slaughter: this event Hindered my reaching Troy, and aiding thee In battle. Having conquered them, and taken For hostages their children, them I bound To pay me annual tribute; with my fleet Then crossed the Hellespont, and marched on foot Through various realms, nor, as thou proudly say’st, Drained the intoxicating bowl, nor slept Beneath a gilded roof, but to such blasts As cover with thick ice the Thracian wave, Or through Pæonia howl, was I exposed Wrapped in this mantle many a sleepless night. But I, though late, am in due season come: For this is the tenth year since thou hast waged An ineffectual war, day after day By thee is idly lavished, while the die Of battle ’twixt the Argive host and thine Spins doubtful ere it fall. But it for me Will be sufficient that the sun once mount The heavens, while I their bulwarks storm, invade Their fleet, and slay the Greeks. To my own home I the next day from Ilion will return, Thy toils soon ending: let no Trojan bear A shield: for with this spear will I subdue The boasters, though ’twas late ere I arrived. Chor. My soul this language doth approve, Such friends as thou art sent by Jove, But humbly I that god beseech, To pardon thy presumptuous speech. The navy launched from Argos’ strand, Though freighted with a daring band, Neither in former times, nor now Contained a chief more brave than thou. How shall Achilles’ self withstand, Or Ajax meet, thy vengeful hand? O may the morn with orient ray Exhibit that auspicious day, When thou the victor’s prize shalt gain And dye with crimson gore the plain. Rhe. Soon with exploits like these will I atone For my long absence: but, with due submission To Nemesis, I speak; when from the foe We have delivered this beleaguered city And seized their spoils for offerings to the gods; With thee to Argos will I go, invade, And ravage with victorious arms, all Greece, To teach them in their turn what ’tis to suffer. Hec. Could I escape from the impending stroke, And with that safety which we erst enjoyed These walls inhabit, I to Heaven should pay Full many a grateful vow: but as for Argos, As for the Grecian states, to lay them waste By arms were far less easy than you speak of. Rhe. Is it not said the bravest chiefs of Greece Came hither? Hec. Them I hold not in contempt, But long have kept at bay. Rhe. When these are slain, We therefore each obstruction have removed. Hec. Forbear to think of distant prospects now, While our immediate interests lie neglected. Rhe. Art thou so tame as to endure such wrongs Without retorting them? Hec. While I maintain What I possess, my empire is sufficient. But freely take your choice, or in the left Or the right wing, or centre of our host Display your shield, and range your troops around. Rhe. I singly will encounter all our foes, O Hector; but if thou esteem it base Not to assist me when I burn their fleet, Because thou hast already toiled so long, Oppose me to Achilles in the front Of battle. Hec. We at him no spear must aim. Rhe. Yet was I told he sailed for Troy. Hec. He sailed, And still is here, but angry with the chiefs, Refuses to assist them. Rhe. In the camp Of Greece, say who is second in renown? Hec. Ajax, I deem, and Tydeus’ son are equal To any; but most fluent in his speech, And with sufficient fortitude inspired, Is that Ulysses, from whom Troy hath suffered Insults the most atrocious; for by night, Entering Minerva’s fane, he stole her image, And bore it to the Grecian fleet: disguised In tattered vest, that vile impostor next Entered the gates, and cursed the Argive host, Sent as a spy to Ilion; having slain The sentinels, he through the gates escaped, And in some fraudful scheme is ever found: At the Thymbræan temple is he stationed Hard by our ramparts, we in him contend With a most grievous pest. Rhe. The valiant man Is never mean enough to slay his foes By stealth, he loves to meet them face to face; But, as for him, the recreant chief thou nam’st, Who lurking with a thievish purpose frames These dark contrivances, as through the gates I sally forth to combat, I will seize him; Driven through his back, my spear shall leave the miscreant Food for the vultures, for the impious robber Who spoils the temples of the gods deserves No better fate. Hec. Now choose, for it is night, The spot for an encampment: I will show you A separate quarter where your troops must sleep. But mark me well, Apollo is the watchword; In case of an emergency, announce This signal to the Thracian host. [Exit Rhesus. Extend The watch beyond the lines, and there receive Dolon our spy, who sallied forth t’ explore The navy of our foes; if he be safe He, by this time, the trenches must approach. [Exit Hector. Chorus. I. Who comes this rampart to defend? The times assigned us sentinels is o’er; Yon fading constellation shines no more Now the seven Pleiades the heaven ascend, In ether view the eagle glide. Wake! what means this long delay? Rise and watch; now dawns the day? Saw ye the moon diffuse her radiance wide? Aurora is at hand: but at the gate (For Dolon sure returns) what faithful guard shall wait? Semichor. To whom did the first watch belong? Semichor. ’Tis said Choræbus, son of Mygdon, is their chief. Semichor. Who in his room was stationed? Semichor. The Pæonians Called from their tent Cilicia’s hardy troops. Semichor. The Mysians summoned us. Semichor. Haste, let us seek The fifth division of the watch, and rouse Lycia’s brave warriors as by lot ordained. Chorus. II. Hark! couched on her ill-omened nest, Fell murderess of her son, in varied strains Near Simois’ banks the nightingale complains: What sounds melodious heave her throbbing breast! The flocks on Ida wont to feed Still browse o’er that airy height, Soothing the cold ear of night, Hark to the murmurs of the pastoral reed. Sleep on our closing eyelids gently steals; Sweet are its dews when morn her earliest dawn reveals. Semichor. But wherefore doth not he draw near whom Hector Sent to explore the fleet? Semichor. He hath so long Been absent that I tremble. Semichor. If he fell Into some ambush, and is slain, we soon Shall have sufficient cause for fear. Semichor. But haste, Rouse Lycia’s warriors as by lot ordained. [Exit Chorus. Ulysses, Diomede. Uly. Heard’st thou, O Diomede, the sound of arms, Or in these ears did empty murmurs ring? Dio. No; but the steely trappings which are linked To yonder chariots, rattled, and I too With vain alarm was seized, till I perceived The coursers, who their clanging harness shook. Uly. Beware, lest in this gloom of night thou stumble Upon the sentinels. Dio. Though in the dark We tread, I with such caution will direct My steps as not to err. Uly. But, should’st thou wake them, Thou know’st the watchword of their host. Dio. I know It is Apollo; this I heard from Dolon. Uly. Ha! I perceive our foes have left these chambers. Dio. Here, Dolon told us, is the tent of Hector: ’Gainst him I wield this javelin. Uly. What hath happened? Is the whole squadron too elsewhere removed? Dio. Perchance they too ’gainst us may have contrived Some stratagem. Uly. For Hector now is brave Since he hath conquered. Dio. How shall we proceed? For in this chamber him we cannot find, And all our hopes are vanished. Uly. To the fleet Let us in haste return: for him some god Protects, and crowns him with triumphant wreaths: We must not strive ’gainst Fortune’s dread behests. Dio. Then to Æneas will we go, or Paris That Phrygian most abhorred, and with our swords Lop off their heads. Uly. But how, in darkness wrapt, Canst thou direct thy passage through the troops, To slay them without danger? Dio. Yet ’twere base, Back to the Grecian fleet should we return, No fresh exploit performing ’gainst the foe. Uly. What means this language? hast thou not performed A great exploit? have we not slain the spy Who to our navy went, and are not these The spoils of Dolon? how canst thou expect To spread a general havoc through their troops? Comply; let us retire: may Fortune speed Our progress homeward. Minerva, Ulysses, Diomede. Min. With affliction stung, Why from the Trojan camp do ye retire? Although the gods forbid you to destroy Hector or Paris, heard ye not that Rhesus, A mighty chief, with numerous troops is come To Troy? If he outlives this night, nor Ajax, Nor can Achilles hinder him from wasting The camp of Greece, demolishing your walls, And forcing a wide passage through your gates With his victorious spear: him slay, and all Is yours; but go not to the couch of Hector, Nor hope to leave that chief a weltering trunk, For he must perish by another hand. Uly. Dread goddess, O Minerva, I distinguished Thy well-known voice: for midst unnumbered toils Thou ever dost support me: but, oh say, Where sleeps the mighty warrior thou hast named, And in what part of the barbarian host Have they assigned his station? Min. Near at hand, And separate from the Phrygian troops, he lies; Hector hath placed him just without the lines Till morn arise; conspicuous in the gloom Of night, and close beside their sleeping lord, Yoked to the car his Thracian coursers stand, White as the glossy plumage of the swan: Them bear away when ye have slain their lord, A glorious prize, for the whole world can boast No car beside drawn by such beauteous steeds. Uly. Either do thou, O Diomede, transpierce The Thracian soldiers, or to me consign That task; meanwhile seize thou the steeds. Dio. To slay The foe be mine; do you the coursers guide, For you are practised in each nicer art, And quick of apprehension. To each man Should that peculiar station be assigned In which he can be useful. Min. But to us Paris I see is coming, who hath heard A doubtful rumour from the watch, that foes Enter the trenches. Dio. Hath he any comrade, Or marches he alone? Min. Alone he seems To go to Hector’s chamber, to announce That there are foes discovered in the camp. Dio. Is it not first ordained that he shall die? Min. You can no more, the Destinies forbid: For Hector must not perish by your hand; But haste to him on whom ye came to wreak Fate’s dreadful purposes: myself meanwhile Assuming Venus’ form, who ’midst the toils Of battle by her tutelary care Protects him, will with empty words detain Paris your foe. Thus much have I declared: Yet he, whom you must smite, though near at hand, Nor knows, nor hears, the words which I have uttered. [Exeunt Ulysses and Diomede. Paris, Minerva. Par. General and brother, Hector, thee I call: Yet sleep’st thou? doth not this important hour Demand thy vigilance? some foes approach, Robbers or spies. Min. Be of good cheer; for Venus Protects you: I in all your battles feel An interest, mindful of the prize I gained Favoured by you, and am for ever grateful: Now to the host of Ilion I conduct Your noble Thracian friend, who from the Muse, Harmonious goddess, and from Strymon springs. Par. To Troy and me thou ever art a friend. In thy behalf when I that judgment gave, I boast that for this city I obtained The greatest treasure life affords. But hither, Hearing an indistinct account, I come; For ’mong the guards there hath prevailed a rumour, That Grecian spies have entered Ilion’s walls: Though the astonished messenger who bore These tidings, saw them not himself, nor knows Who saw them: I on this account am going To Hector’s tent. Min. Fear nought; for in the camp No new event hath happened. To arrange The Thracian troops is Hector gone. Par. Thy words Are most persuasive, and to them I yield Implicit credence. From all fears released, I to my former station will return. Min. Go and depend upon my guardian care To see my faithful votaries ever blest; For you in me shall find a zealous friend. [Exit Paris. Ulysses, Diomede, Minerva. Min. But now to you, my real friends, I speak. Son of Laertes, O conceal your sword, For we have slain the Thracian chief, and seized His coursers, but our foes have ta’en th’ alarm And rush upon you, therefore fly with speed, Fly to the naval ramparts. Why delay To save your lives when hostile throngs approach? [Exit Minerva. Chorus, Ulysses, Diomede. Chor. Come on, strike, strike, destroy. Who marches yonder? Look, look, ’tis him I mean! these are the robbers Who in the dead of night alarmed our host. Hither, my friends, haste hither; I have seized them. What answer mak’st thou? tell me whence thou cam’st, And who thou art. Uly. No right hast thou to know; Insult me, and this instant thou shalt die. Chor. Wilt thou not, ere this lance transpierce thy breast, Repeat the watchword? Uly. That thou soon shalt hear; Be satisfied. 1st Semichor. Come on, my friends, strike! strike! 2nd Semichor. Hast thou slain Rhesus? Uly. I have slain the man Who would have murdered thee: forbear. 1st Semichor. I will not. 2nd Semichor. Forbear to slay a friend. 1st Semichor. Pronounce the watchword. Uly. Apollo. 2nd Semichor. Thou art right; let not a spear Be lifted up against him. 1st Semichor. Know’st thou whither Those men are gone? 2nd Semichor. We saw not. 1st Semichor. Follow close Their steps, or we must call aloud for aid. 2nd Semichor. Yet were it most unseemly to disturb Our valiant comrades with our nightly fears. [Exeunt Ulysses and Diomede. Chorus. ODE. I. What chief is he, who moved along; What daring plunderer fleet and strong, Shall boast he ’scaped my vengeful hand? How overtake his rapid flight? To whom compare him, who by night, With dauntless step passed through our armed band And slumbering guards? doth he reside In Thessaly, near ocean’s boisterous tide In Locris, or those islands scattered o’er The waves? whence comes he to this fell debate? What power supreme doth he adore? 1st Semichor. Was this Ulysses’ enterprise, or whose? 2nd Semichor. If we may form our judgment from the past, Who but Ulysses—— 1st Semichor. Think’st thou that it was? 2nd Semichor. Why not? 1st Semichor. He is an enterprising foe. 2nd Semichor. What bravery? whom do you applaud? 1st Semichor. Ulysses. 2nd Semichor. Praise not the treacherous weapon of a robber. Chorus. II. He entered Ilion once before, With foam his eyes were covered o’er, In tatters hung his squalid vest; He artfully concealed his sword, And sued for fragments from our board; Shorn was his head, and like a beggar dressed; He cursed with simulated hate Th’ Atrides, rulers of the Grecian state. May just revenge his forfeit life demand: Would he had perished as his crimes deserve, Before he reached the Phrygian land. 1st Semichor. Whether this deed was by Ulysses wrought It matters not, I shrink with fear, for Hector Will to us guards impute the blame. 2nd Semichor. What charge Can he allege? 1st Semichor. He will suspect. 2nd Semichor. Why shrink With terror? 1st Semichor. ’Twixt our ranks they passed. 2nd Semichor. Who passed? 1st Semichor. They, who this night have entered Phrygia’s camp. Charioteer of Rhesus, Chorus. Cha. Alas! intolerable stroke of fate! 1st Semichor. Be silent. 2nd Semichor. Rouse! for some one may have fallen Into the snare. Cha. O dire calamity Of Troy’s allies, the Thracians! 1st Semichor. Who is he That groans? Cha. Ah! wretched me, and O thou king Of Thrace, who in an evil hour beheld’st Accursed Ilion; what an end of life Was thine! Chor. But which of our allies art thou? For o’er these eyes the gloom of night is spread, And I discern thee not. Cha. Where shall I find Some of the Trojan chiefs? beneath his shield O where doth Hector taste the charms of sleep? To which of Ilion’s leaders shall I tell All we have suffered? and what wounds unseen Some stranger hath on us with ruthless hand Inflicted? but he vanished and hath heaped Conspicuous sorrows on the Thracian realm. Chor. Some terrible disaster to the troops Of Thrace it seems hath happened, if aright I comprehend what I from him have heard. Cha. Our host is utterly destroyed, our king Hath been despatched by some foul secret stroke. How am I tortured by a deadly wound, Yet know not to what cause I must impute My perishing! ’Twas by the Fates ordained, That I, and Rhesus, who to Ilion led Auxiliar troops, ingloriously should bleed. Chor. He in no riddle hath expressed the tale Of our misfortunes; he asserts too clearly That our allies are slain. Cha. We are most wretched, And to our wretchedness have joined disgrace, A twofold evil. For, to die with glory, If glory must be purchased at the expense Of life, is very bitterness I deem To him who bleeds (for what can make amends For such a loss as life); but to the living Is he the source of pride, from him his house Derives renown. But we, alas! like fools, Ignobly perish. Hector in the camp No sooner fixed our station, and pronounced The watchword, than we slept upon the plain, O’ercome with toil; no sentinels were stationed To watch our troops by night, nor were our arms Duly arranged, and to the harnessed steeds Hung no alarm bell; for our monarch heard That ye had proved victorious, and with ruin Threatened the Grecian fleet. Immersed we lay In luckless slumber; till disturbed in mind I started up, and with a liberal hand Measured the coursers’ food, resolved betimes To yoke them for the battle. I beheld Two men, who, in the midnight darkness, walked Around our camp; but when I moved, they fled, And disappeared immediately; with threats I bade them keep aloof: ’twas my conjecture That robbers, some of our own countrymen, Approached: they answered not, nor know I more. Returning to my tent, again I slept, And forms tremendous hovered in my dream. For near my royal master, as I stood, I saw two visionary wolves ascend Those coursers’ backs which I was wont to guide, Oft lashing with their tails they forced them on, Indignant breathing as they champed the bit, And struggling with dismay; but in attempting To drive away these ravenous beasts, I woke, Roused by the terrors of the night, and heard, Soon as I raised my head, expiring groans; The tepid current of my master’s blood, Yet gasping in the agonies of death, Besprinkled me. As from the couch I leaped Unarmed, and sought for weapons, some strong warrior Smote with his sword my ribs; the ghastly wound Displayed his might: prostrate I sunk to earth. Bearing the steeds away, and glittering car, They by the swiftness of their feet escaped, Tortured with pain, too faint to stand, I know Too well the dire calamity these eyes Beheld; but cannot say, or through what means, Or by the hand of whom, my lord was slain: Yet can I guess that by our friends we suffer. Chor. O charioteer of Thracia’s wretched king, Be well assured this deed was by our foes Committed. For lo! Hector’s self, apprized Of this calamity, draws near; he feels Such anguish as he ought for thy disasters. Hector, Charioteer of Rhesus, Chorus. Hec. O ye accursed authors of this mischief, How did those spies, who by the foe were sent Thus, to your infamy, escape, and spread Dire havoc through the host; both as they entered And as they left the camp? Yet, unmolested, Ye suffered them to pass. Who should be punished But you? for you, I say, were stationed here To watch the camp; but they without a wound Are vanished, laughing at the Phrygian troops For their unmanly cowardice, and me Their leader. Be assured, by Jove I swear, All-gracious father, or the scourge or death Shall wait you for such guilt, else deem that Hector Is but a thing of nought, a very coward. Chor. Great is, alas! my danger, mighty prince, The foe stole in while I to you conveyed Those tidings, that the Greeks around their ships Had kindled fires: through all the live-long night These watchful eyes have ne’er been sealed by sleep. By Simois’ holy fountain I conjure you, My royal lord, impute no blame to me, For I am wholly guiltless. If you learn That in my deeds or words I have offended, Plunge me alive beneath earth’s deepest vault; I ask no mercy. Cha. Why dost thou upbraid These for the guilt? by plausible harangues Wouldst thou impose on thy barbarian friends; O thou barbarian, thou the bloody deed Didst perpetrate; nor can our slaughtered comrades, Nor we who linger pierced with ghastly wounds, Admit that ’twas another. There requires A long and subtle speech to make me think Thou didst not basely murder thy allies, Because the beauty of our steeds attracted Thy admiration, and on their account Hast thou slain those who at thy earnest prayer Landed on Ilion’s shore; they came, they died. With greater decency than thou observ’st, Who dost assassinate thy friends, did Paris The rites of hospitality infringe. Pretend not that some Grecian came unseen And smote us. Who subdued the Phrygian host, Who reached our quarters unobserved by Hector? Thou with the Trojan army wert before us; But who was wounded, who among thy troops Expired, when through their ranks as thou pretend’st The foe to us advanced? But I was wounded, And they, whom a more grievous ill o’ertook, No more behold the sun. To be explicit, I charge no Greek: what foe could come by night And find out Rhesus’ tent, unless some god Had told the murderers, for they sure knew nought Of his arrival? therefore all this mischief Must be thy sole contrivance. Hec. Our allies Have long assisted us since first the Greeks This realm invaded; and I never heard They to my charge imputed any crime. Could I begin with thee? by such desire For beauteous steeds may I be never seized, As to induce me to destroy my friends. Ulysses was the author of this deed. What Greek could have accomplished or contrived Such an exploit, but he? Him much I fear: My soul is also troubled lest he light On Dolon too, and slay him, for ’tis long Since he went forth, nor doth he yet return. Cha. I know not that Ulysses whom thou nam’st, Nor did a foe inflict this ghastly wound. Hec. Therefore retain, since thus to thee it seems, Thy own opinion. Cha. O my native land, Might I but die in thee! Hec. Thou shalt not die: For of the dead the number is sufficient. Cha. Reft of my lord, but whither shall I turn? Hec. Thou in my house shalt careful treatment find, And healing balsams. Cha. Shall the ruthless hands Of murderers dress my wounds? Hec. He will not cease Alleging the same charge. Cha. Perdition seize The author of this bloody deed! my tongue Has fixed no charge, as thou pretend’st, on thee; But Justice knows. Hec. Conduct him to my palace With speed, that we may ’scape his clamorous plaints. But you must go, and to the citizens Proclaim, acquainting Priam, and the elders Who sit in council, first, that I direct The bodies of the slain shall be interred With due respect beside the public road. [Exit Charioteer, supported by one of Hector’s Attendants. Chor. Why from the summit of exalted bliss Into fresh woes hath some malignant god Plunged Troy, why caused this sad reverse of fortune? The Muse appears in the air, Hector, Chorus. Chor. High o’er our heads what deity, O king, Is hovering? in her hands a recent corse She bears: I shudder at the dreadful sight. Muse. Ye Trojans, mark me well: for I a Muse Who by the wise am worshipped, hither come, One of the nine famed sisters, having seen The wretched fate of this my dearest son, Who by the foe was slain: but he who smote The generous youth, Ulysses, that dissembler, At length shall suffer as his crimes deserve. ODE. I. Parental anguish rends my breast, For thee my son, my son, I grieve, Thy mother sinks with woes oppressed. Why didst thou take this road, why leave Thy home, and march to Ilion’s gate, Where death did thy arrival wait? Oft with maternal zeal I strove Thy luckless courage to restrain, And oft thy sire opposed in vain. But now with ineffectual love, My dearest son, thee now no more, Thee, O my son, must I deplore. Chor. As far as bosoms, by no kindred ties United, can partake a mother’s grief, Do I bewail thy son’s untimely fate. Muse. II. On him your tenfold vengeance shed From Oeneus who derives his birth, Smite base Ulysses’ perjured head, Ye fiends who desolate the earth; Through them with agonizing pain I mourn my valiant offspring slain; May Helen too partake their doom, Who from her bridal mansions fled, And sought th’ adulterer’s Phrygian bed; For thou in Troy art to the tomb By her consigned; and many a state Bewails its bravest warriors’ fate. Much while on earth, and since thy murmuring ghost Was plunged in Orcus’ dreary mansions more, O offspring of Philammon, didst thou wound My soul: that arrogance which caused thy ruin, That contest with Pieria’s choir, gave birth To this unhappy youth: for having passed The rapid current, with incautious step Approaching Strymon’s genial bed, we mounted Pangæum’s summit, for its golden mines Distinguished; each melodious instrument Around us in full concert breathed; our strife Was there decided with the Thracian minstrel; That Thamyris who dared blaspheme our art, We of his eyes deprived. But since I bore Thee, O my son, through deference for my sisters, And for my own reputed chastity, Thee to the watery mansions of thy sire I sent; and Strymon, to no human care, But to the nymphs who haunt his limpid founts, For nurture did consign thee; from those virgins When, O my dearest son, thou hadst received The best of educations, thou becam’st Monarch of Thrace, the first of men. I felt No boding apprehensions of thy death; By thee, while marshalled on thy native ground, Athirst for blood the dauntless squadrons moved. But thee I cautioned, for I knew thy fate, That thou to Troy shouldst never go; but thee Th’ ambassadors of Hector and the Senate, By oft repeated messages, persuaded To come to the assistance of thy friends. Yet think not, O Minerva, thou sole cause Of my son’s fate, that thou these watchful eyes Hast ’scaped; Ulysses and the son of Tydeus Were not the authors of this bloody deed, Although they gave the wound. We sister Muses Honour thy city, in thy land we dwell. Orpheus, the kinsman of this hapless youth Whom thou hast slain, dark mysteries did unfold; And by Apollo, and our sister choir, Thy venerable citizen Musæus Was taught to soar beyond each warbled strain Of pristine melody: but in return For all these favours, bearing in my arms My son, I utter this funereal dirge; But I no other minstrel will employ. Chor. Falsely the wounded Thracian charioteer Charged us with a conspiracy to slay him. Hec. Full well I knew, there needed not a seer T’ inform me, that he perished by the arts Of Ithacus. But was it not my duty When I my country saw by Grecian troops Besieged, to send forth heralds to my friends, Requesting them to aid us? I did send, And Rhesus came, by gratitude constrained, Illustrious partner of my toils. His death Lamenting, will I raise a tomb to grace The corse of my ally, and o’er the flame Strew tissued vests: for with confederate arms Dauntless he came, though piteous was his death. Muse. They shall not plunge him in the yawning grave, Such vows will I address to Pluto’s bride, Daughter of fruitful Ceres, to release His ghost from the drear shades beneath: she owes To Orpheus’ friends such honours. But henceforth, Dead as it were to me, will he no more Behold the sun, we ne’er must meet again, Nor shall he see his mother, but shall lie Concealed beneath the caverns of that land With silver mines abounding, from a man Exalted to a god, restored to life, The priest of Bacchus, and of him who dwells Beneath Pangeum’s rock, a god adored By those who haunt his orgies. But ere long To yonder goddess of the briny waves Shall I bear doleful tidings: for by fate It is decreed, her offspring too shall die; But first our sisterhood, in choral plaints, Will sing of thee, O Rhesus, and hereafter Achilles, son of Thetis, shall demand Our elegiac strains, not she who slew Thee, hapless youth, Minerva, can redeem him; Such an inevitable shaft is stored In Phœbus’ quiver. O ye pangs that rend A mother’s breast, ye toils the lot of man; They who behold you in your real light Will live without a progeny, nor mourn With hopeless anguish o’er their children’s tomb. [Exit the Muse. Chor. To bury the deceased with honours due, Will be his mother’s care: but if, O Hector, Thou mean’st to execute some great emprise, ’Tis now the time: for morn already dawns. Hec. Go, and this instant bid our comrades arm, Harness the steeds: but while ye in these toils Are busied, ye the signal must await, Th’ Etrurian trumpet’s clangour; for I trust I first shall o’er the Grecian host prevail, Shall storm their ramparts, and then burn their fleet, And that Hyperion’s orient beams will bring A day of freedom to Troy’s valiant race. Chor. Obey the monarch: clad in glittering mail Let us go forth, and his behests proclaim To our associates; for that god who fights Our battles, haply will bestow success.