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

it, and my hour is nigh!I deem’d Deïphobus had heard my call,But he secure lies guarded in the wall.    380 A God deceiv’d me; Pallas, ‘t was thy deed:Death and black Fate approach! ‘t is I must bleed:No refuge now, no succour from above,Great Jove deserts me, and the son of Jove,Propitious once, and kind! Then welcome Fate!    385 ‘T is true I perish, yet I perish great:Yet in a mighty deed I shall expire,Let future ages hear it, and admire!’   Fierce, at the word, his weighty sword he drew,And, all collected, on Achilles flew.    390 So Jove’s bold bird, high balanc’d in the air,Stoops from the clouds to truss the quiv’ring hare.Nor less Achilles his fierce soul prepares;Before his breast the flaming shield he bears,Refulgent orb! above his fourfold cone    395 The gilded horse-hair sparkled in the sun,Nodding at ev’ry step (Vulcanian frame)!And as he mov’d, his figure seem’d on flame.As radiant Hesper shines with keener light,Far-beaming o’er the silver host of night,    400 When all the starry train emblaze the sphere:So shone the point of great Achilles’ spear.In his right hand he waves the weapon round,Eyes the whole man, and meditates the wound:But the rich mail Patroclus lately wore,    405 Securely cased the warrior’s body o’er.One place at length he spies, to let in Fate,Where ‘twixt the neck and throat the jointed plateGave entrance: thro’ that penetrable partFurious he drove the well-directed dart:    410 Nor pierc’d the windpipe yet, nor took the powerOf speech, unhappy! from thy dying hour.Prone on the field the bleeding warrior lies,While thus, triumphing, stern Achilles cries:   ‘At last is Hector stretch’d upon the plain,    415 Who fear’d no vengeance for Patroclus slain:Then, Prince! you should have fear’d, what now you feel;Achilles absent was Achilles still.Yet a short space the great avenger stay’d,Then low in dust thy strength and glory laid.    420 Peaceful he sleeps, with all our rites adorn’d,For ever honour’d, and for ever mourn’d:While, cast to all the rage of hostile power,Thee birds shall mangle, and thee dogs devour.’   Then Hector, fainting at th’ approach of death:    425 ‘By thy own soul! by those who gave thee breath!By all the sacred prevalence of prayer;Ah, leave me not for Grecian dogs to tear!The common rites of sepulture bestow,To soothe a father’s and a mother’s woe;    430 Let their large gifts procure an urn at least,And Hector’s ashes in his country rest.’   ‘No, wretch accurs’d!’ relentless he replies(Flames, as he spoke, shot flashing from his eyes),‘Not those who gave me breath should bid me spare,    435 Nor all the sacred prevalence of prayer.Could I myself the bloody banquet join!No — to the dogs that carcass I resign.Should Troy to bribe me bring forth all her store,And, giving thousands, offer thousands more;    440 Should Dardan Priam, and his weeping dame,Drain their whole realm to buy one funeral flame;Their Hector on the pile they should not see,Nor rob the vultures of one limb of thee.’   Then thus the Chief his dying accents drew:    445 ‘Thy rage, implacable! too well I knew:The Furies that relentless breast have steel’d,And curs’d thee with a heart that cannot yield.Yet think, a day will come, when Fate’s decreeAnd angry Gods shall wreak this wrong on thee;    450 Phœbus and Paris shall avenge my fate,And stretch thee here, before this Scæan gate.’   He ceas’d: the Fates suppress’d his lab’ring breath,And his eyes stiffen’d at the hand of death;To the dark realm the spirit wings its way    455 (The manly body left a load of clay),And plaintive glides along the dreary coast,A naked, wand’ring, melancholy ghost!   Achilles, musing as he roll’d his eyesO’er the dead hero, thus (unheard) replies:    460 ‘Die thou the first! when Jove and Heav’n ordain,I follow thee.’ He said, and stripp’d the slain.Then, forcing