Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) Read Free

arms, the same),In show an aid, by hapless Hector’s sideApproach’d, and greets him thus with voice belied:   ‘Too long, O Hector! have I borne the sight    295 Of this distress, and sorrow’d in thy flight:It fits us now a noble stand to make,And here, as brothers, equal fates partake.’   Then he: ‘O Prince! allied in blood and fame,Dearer than all that own a brother’s name;    300 Of all that Hecuba to Priam bore,Long tried, long lov’d; much lov’d, but honour’d more!Since you of all our numerous race aloneDefend my life, regardless of your own.’   Again the Goddess: ‘Much my father’s prayer,    305 And much my mother’s, press’d me to forbear:My friends embraced my knees, adjured my stay,But stronger love impell’d, and I obey.Come then, the glorious conflict let us try,Let the steel sparkle and the jav’lin fly;    310 Or let us stretch Achilles on the field,Or to his arm our bloody trophies yield.’   Fraudful she said; then swiftly march’d before;The Dardan hero shuns his foe no more.Sternly they met. The silence Hector broke;    315 His dreadful plumage nodded as he spoke:     ‘Enough, O son of Peleus! Troy has view’dHer walls thrice circled, and her Chief pursued.But now some God within me bids me tryThine, or my fate: I kill thee, or I die.    320 Yet on the verge of battle let us stay,And for a moment’s space suspend the day:Let Heav’n’s high Powers be call’d to arbitrateThe just conditions of this stern debate(Eternal witnesses of all below,    325 And faithful guardians of the treasured vow)!To them I swear: if, victor in the strife,Jove by these hands shall shed thy noble life,No vile dishonour shall thy corse pursue;Stripp’d of its arms alone (the conqueror’s due),    330 The rest to Greece uninjur’d I ‘ll restore:Now plight thy mutual oath, I ask no more.’   ‘Talk not of oaths’ (the dreadful Chief replies,While anger flash’d from his disdainful eyes),‘Detested as thou art, and ought to be,    335 Nor oath nor pact Achilles plights with thee;Such pacts, as lambs and rabid wolves combine,Such leagues, as men and furious lions join,To such I call the Gods! one constant stateOf lasting rancour and eternal hate:    340 No thought but rage, and never-ceasing strife,Till death extinguish rage, and thought, and life.Rouse then thy forces this important hour,Collect thy soul, and call forth all thy power.No farther subterfuge, no farther chance;    345 ‘T is Pallas, Pallas gives thee to my lance.Each Grecian ghost by thee deprived of breath,Now hovers round, and calls thee to thy death.’   He spoke, and launch’d his jav’lin at the foe;But Hector shunn’d the meditated blow:    350 He stoop’d, while o’er his head the flying spearSung innocent, and spent its force in air.Minerva watch’d it falling on the land,Then drew, and gave to great Achilles’ hand,Unseen of Hector, who, elate with joy,    355 Now shakes his lance, and braves the dread of Troy:‘The life you boasted to that jav’lin giv’n,Prince! you have miss’d. My fate depends on Heav’n.To thee (presumptuous as thou art) unknownOr what must prove my fortune, or thy own.    360 Boasting is but an art, our fears to blind,And with false terrors sink another’s mind.But know, whatever fate I am to try,By no dishonest wound shall Hector die;I shall not fall a fugitive at least,    365 My soul shall bravely issue from my breast.But first, try thou my arm; and may this dartEnd all my country’s woes, deep buried in thy heart!’   The weapon flew, its course unerring held;Unerring, but the heav’nly shield repell’d    370 The mortal dart; resulting with a boundFrom off the ringing orb, it struck the ground.Hector beheld his jav’lin fall in vain,Nor other lance nor other hope remain;He calls Deïphobus, demands a spear,    375 In vain, for no Deïphobus was there.All comfortless he stands: then, with a sigh,‘‘T is so — Heav’n wills