Translated by Alexander Pope,

Notes and Introductions Omitted

Illustrations Included by Flaxman's Designs.

1899

• I-II
• III-IV
• V-VI
• VII-VIII
• IX-X
• XI-XII
• XIII-XIV
• XV-XVI
• XVII-XVIII
• XIX-XX
• XXI-XXII
• XXIII-XXIV

ARGUMENT.

THE DUEL OF MENELAUS AND PARIS.

The armies being ready to engage, a single combat is agreed upon between Menelaus and Paris (by the intervention of Hector) for the determination of the war. Iris is sent to call Helen to behold the fight. She leads her to the walls of Troy, where Priam sat with his counsellers observing the Grecian leaders on the plain below, to whom Helen gives an account of the chief of them. The kings on either part take the solemn oath for the conditions of the combat. The duel ensues; wherein Paris being overcome, he is snatched away in a cloud by Venus, and transported to his apartment. She then calls Helen from the walls, and brings the lovers together. Agamemnon, on the part of the Grecians, demands the restoration of Helen, and the performance of the articles.

The three-and-twentieth day still continues throughout this book. The scene is sometimes in the fields before Troy, and sometimes in Troy itself. Thus by their leaders' care each martial band Moves into ranks, and stretches o'er the land. With shouts the Trojans, rushing from afar, Proclaim their motions, and provoke the war So when inclement winters vex the plain With piercing frosts, or thick-descending rain, To warmer seas the cranes embodied fly,108 With noise, and order, through the midway sky; To pigmy nations wounds and death they bring, And all the war descends upon the wing, But silent, breathing rage, resolved and skill'd109 By mutual aids to fix a doubtful field,

Swift march the Greeks: the rapid dust around Darkening arises from the labour'd ground. Thus from his flaggy wings when Notus sheds A night of vapours round the mountain heads, Swift-gliding mists the dusky fields invade, To thieves more grateful than the midnight shade; While scarce the swains their feeding flocks survey, Lost and confused amidst the thicken'd day: So wrapp'd in gathering dust, the Grecian train, A moving cloud, swept on, and hid the plain. Now front to front the hostile armies stand, Eager of fight, and only wait command; When, to the van, before the sons of fame Whom Troy sent forth, the beauteous Paris came: In form a god! the panther's speckled hide Flow'd o'er his armour with an easy pride: His bended bow across his shoulders flung, His sword beside him negligently hung; Two pointed spears he shook with gallant grace, And dared the bravest of the Grecian race. As thus, with glorious air and proud disdain, He boldly stalk'd, the foremost on the plain, Him Menelaus, loved of Mars, espies, With heart elated, and with joyful eyes: So joys a lion, if the branching deer, Or mountain goat, his bulky prize, appear; Eager he seizes and devours the slain, Press'd by bold youths and baying dogs in vain. Thus fond of vengeance, with a furious bound, In clanging arms he leaps upon the ground From his high chariot: him, approaching near, The beauteous champion views with marks of fear, Smit with a conscious sense, retires behind, And shuns the fate he well deserved to find. As when some shepherd, from the rustling trees110 Shot forth to view, a scaly serpent sees, Trembling and pale, he starts with wild affright And all confused precipitates his flight: So from the king the shining warrior flies, And plunged amid the thickest Trojans lies. As godlike Hector sees the prince retreat, He thus upbraids him with a generous heat: “Unhappy Paris! but to women brave!111 So fairly form'd, and only to deceive!

Oh, hadst thou died when first thou saw'st the light, Or died at least before thy nuptial rite! A better fate than vainly thus to boast, And fly, the scandal of thy Trojan host. Gods! how the scornful Greeks exult to see Their fears of danger undeceived in thee! Thy figure promised with a martial air, But ill thy soul supplies a form so fair. In former days, in all thy gallant pride, When thy tall ships triumphant stemm'd the tide, When Greece beheld thy painted canvas flow, And crowds stood wondering at the passing show, Say, was it thus, with such a baffled mien, You met the approaches of the Spartan queen, Thus from her realm convey'd the beauteous prize, And both her warlike lords outshined in Helen's eyes? This deed, thy foes' delight, thy own disgrace, Thy father's grief, and ruin of thy race; This deed recalls thee to the proffer'd fight; Or hast thou injured whom thou dar'st not right? Soon to thy cost the field would make thee know Thou keep'st the consort of a braver foe. Thy graceful form instilling soft desire, Thy curling tresses, and thy silver lyre, Beauty and youth; in vain to these you trust, When youth and beauty shall be laid in dust: Troy yet may wake, and one avenging blow Crush the dire author of his country's woe.” His silence here, with blushes, Paris breaks: “'Tis just, my brother, what your anger speaks: But who like thee can boast a soul sedate, So firmly proof to all the shocks of fate? Thy force, like steel, a temper'd hardness shows, Still edged to wound, and still untired with blows, Like steel, uplifted by some strenuous swain, With falling woods to strew the wasted plain. Thy gifts I praise; nor thou despise the charms With which a lover golden Venus arms; Soft moving speech, and pleasing outward show, No wish can gain them, but the gods bestow. Yet, would'st thou have the proffer'd combat stand, The Greeks and Trojans seat on either hand; Then let a midway space our hosts divide, And, on that stage of war, the cause be tried: By Paris there the Spartan king be fought, For beauteous Helen and the wealth she brought; And who his rival can in arms subdue, His be the fair, and his the treasure too. Thus with a lasting league your toils may cease, And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace;

Thus may the Greeks review their native shore, Much famed for generous steeds, for beauty more.” He said. The challenge Hector heard with joy, Then with his spear restrain'd the youth of Troy, Held by the midst, athwart; and near the foe Advanced with steps majestically slow: While round his dauntless head the Grecians pour Their stones and arrows in a mingled shower. Then thus the monarch, great Atrides, cried: “Forbear, ye warriors! lay the darts aside: A parley Hector asks, a message bears; We know him by the various plume he wears.” Awed by his high command the Greeks attend, The tumult silence, and the fight suspend. While from the centre Hector rolls his eyes On either host, and thus to both applies: “Hear, all ye Trojan, all ye Grecian bands, What Paris, author of the war, demands. Your shining swords within the sheath restrain, And pitch your lances in the yielding plain. Here in the midst, in either army's sight, He dares the Spartan king to single fight; And wills that Helen and the ravish'd spoil, That caused the contest, shall reward the toil. Let these the brave triumphant victor grace, And different nations part in leagues of peace.” He spoke: in still suspense on either side Each army stood: the Spartan chief replied: “Me too, ye warriors, hear, whose fatal right A world engages in the toils of fight. To me the labour of the field resign; Me Paris injured; all the war be mine. Fall he that must, beneath his rival's arms; And live the rest, secure of future harms. Two lambs, devoted by your country's rite, To earth a sable, to the sun a white, Prepare, ye Trojans! while a third we bring Select to Jove, the inviolable king. Let reverend Priam in the truce engage, And add the sanction of considerate age; His sons are faithless, headlong in debate, And youth itself an empty wavering state; Cool age advances, venerably wise, Turns on all hands its deep-discerning eyes; Sees what befell, and what may yet befall, Concludes from both, and best provides for all. The nations hear with rising hopes possess'd, And peaceful prospects dawn in every breast. Within the lines they drew their steeds around, And from their chariots issued on the ground;

Next, all unbuckling the rich mail they wore, Laid their bright arms along the sable shore. On either side the meeting hosts are seen With lances fix'd, and close the space between. Two heralds now, despatch'd to Troy, invite The Phrygian monarch to the peaceful rite. Talthybius hastens to the fleet, to bring The lamb for Jove, the inviolable king. Meantime to beauteous Helen, from the skies The various goddess of the rainbow flies: (Like fair Laodice in form and face, The loveliest nymph of Priam's royal race:) Her in the palace, at her loom she found; The golden web her own sad story crown'd, The Trojan wars she weaved (herself the prize) And the dire triumphs of her fatal eyes. To whom the goddess of the painted bow: “Approach, and view the wondrous scene below!112 Each hardy Greek, and valiant Trojan knight, So dreadful late, and furious for the fight, Now rest their spears, or lean upon their shields; Ceased is the war, and silent all the fields. Paris alone and Sparta's king advance, In single fight to toss the beamy lance; Each met in arms, the fate of combat tries, Thy love the motive, and thy charms the prize.” This said, the many-coloured maid inspires Her husband's love, and wakes her former fires; Her country, parents, all that once were dear, Rush to her thought, and force a tender tear, O'er her fair face a snowy veil she threw, And, softly sighing, from the loom withdrew. Her handmaids, Clymene and Æthra, wait Her silent footsteps to the Scaean gate. There sat the seniors of the Trojan race: (Old Priam's chiefs, and most in Priam's grace,) The king the first; Thymoetes at his side; Lampus and Clytius, long in council tried; Panthus, and Hicetaon, once the strong; And next, the wisest of the reverend throng, Antenor grave, and sage Ucalegon, Lean'd on the walls and bask'd before the sun: Chiefs, who no more in bloody fights engage, But wise through time, and narrative with age, In summer days, like grasshoppers rejoice, A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.

These, when the Spartan queen approach'd the tower, In secret own'd resistless beauty's power: They cried, “No wonder such celestial charms113 For nine long years have set the world in arms; What winning graces! what majestic mien! She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen! Yet hence, O Heaven, convey that fatal face, And from destruction save the Trojan race.” The good old Priam welcomed her, and cried, “Approach, my child, and grace thy father's side. See on the plain thy Grecian spouse appears, The friends and kindred of thy former years. No crime of thine our present sufferings draws, Not thou, but Heaven's disposing will, the cause The gods these armies and this force employ, The hostile gods conspire the fate of Troy. But lift thy eyes, and say, what Greek is he (Far as from hence these aged orbs can see) Around whose brow such martial graces shine, So tall, so awful, and almost divine! Though some of larger stature tread the green, None match his grandeur and exalted mien: He seems a monarch, and his country's pride.” Thus ceased the king, and thus the fair replied: “Before thy presence, father, I appear, With conscious shame and reverential fear. Ah! had I died, ere to these walk I fled, False to my country, and my nuptial bed; My brothers, friends, and daughter left behind, False to them all, to Paris only kind! For this I mourn, till grief or dire disease Shall waste the form whose fault it was to please! The king of kings, Atrides, you survey, Great in the war, and great in arts of sway: My brother once, before my days of shame! And oh! that still he bore a brother's name!” With wonder Priam view'd the godlike man, Extoll'd the happy prince, and thus began: “O bless'd Atrides! born to prosperous fate, Successful monarch of a mighty state! How vast thy empire! Of your matchless train What numbers lost, what numbers yet remain! In Phrygia once were gallant armies known, In ancient time, when Otreus fill'd the throne, When godlike Mygdon led their troops of horse, And I, to join them, raised the Trojan force: Against the manlike Amazons we stood,114

And Sangar's stream ran purple with their blood. But far inferior those, in martial grace, And strength of numbers, to this Grecian race.” This said, once more he view'd the warrior train; “What's he, whose arms lie scatter'd on the plain? Broad is his breast, his shoulders larger spread, Though great Atrides overtops his head. Nor yet appear his care and conduct small; From rank to rank he moves, and orders all. The stately ram thus measures o'er the ground, And, master of the flock, surveys them round.” Then Helen thus: “Whom your discerning eyes Have singled out, is Ithacus the wise; A barren island boasts his glorious birth; His fame for wisdom fills the spacious earth.” Antenor took the word, and thus began:115 “Myself, O king! have seen that wondrous man When, trusting Jove and hospitable laws, To Troy he came, to plead the Grecian cause; (Great Menelaus urged the same request;) My house was honour'd with each royal guest: I knew their persons, and admired their parts, Both brave in arms, and both approved in arts. Erect, the Spartan most engaged our view; Ulysses seated, greater reverence drew. When Atreus' son harangued the listening train, Just was his sense, and his expression plain, His words succinct, yet full, without a fault; He spoke no more than just the thing he ought. But when Ulysses rose, in thought profound,116 His modest eyes he fix'd upon the ground; As one unskill'd or dumb, he seem'd to stand,

Nor raised his head, nor stretch'd his sceptred hand; But, when he speaks, what elocution flows! Soft as the fleeces of descending snows,117 The copious accents fall, with easy art; Melting they fall, and sink into the heart! Wondering we hear, and fix'd in deep surprise, Our ears refute the censure of our eyes.” The king then ask'd (as yet the camp he view'd) “What chief is that, with giant strength endued, Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swelling chest, And lofty stature, far exceed the rest? “Ajax the great, (the beauteous queen replied,) Himself a host: the Grecian strength and pride. See! bold Idomeneus superior towers Amid yon circle of his Cretan powers, Great as a god! I saw him once before, With Menelaus on the Spartan shore. The rest I know, and could in order name; All valiant chiefs, and men of mighty fame. Yet two are wanting of the numerous train, Whom long my eyes have sought, but sought in vain: Castor and Pollux, first in martial force, One bold on foot, and one renown'd for horse. My brothers these; the same our native shore, One house contain'd us, as one mother bore. Perhaps the chiefs, from warlike toils at ease, For distant Troy refused to sail the seas; Perhaps their swords some nobler quarrel draws, Ashamed to combat in their sister's cause.” So spoke the fair, nor knew her brothers' doom;118 Wrapt in the cold embraces of the tomb; Adorn'd with honours in their native shore, Silent they slept, and heard of wars no more. Meantime the heralds, through the crowded town. Bring the rich wine and destined victims down. Idaeus' arms the golden goblets press'd,119 Who thus the venerable king address'd: “Arise, O father of the Trojan state! The nations call, thy joyful people wait To seal the truce, and end the dire debate. Paris, thy son, and Sparta's king advance, In measured lists to toss the weighty lance; And who his rival shall in arms subdue, His be the dame, and his the treasure too.

Thus with a lasting league our toils may cease, And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace: So shall the Greeks review their native shore, Much famed for generous steeds, for beauty more.” With grief he heard, and bade the chiefs prepare To join his milk-white coursers to the car; He mounts the seat, Antenor at his side; The gentle steeds through Scaea's gates they guide:120 Next from the car descending on the plain, Amid the Grecian host and Trojan train, Slow they proceed: the sage Ulysses then Arose, and with him rose the king of men. On either side a sacred herald stands, The wine they mix, and on each monarch's hands Pour the full urn; then draws the Grecian lord His cutlass sheathed beside his ponderous sword; From the sign'd victims crops the curling hair;121 The heralds part it, and the princes share; Then loudly thus before the attentive bands He calls the gods, and spreads his lifted hands: “O first and greatest power! whom all obey, Who high on Ida's holy mountain sway, Eternal Jove! and you bright orb that roll From east to west, and view from pole to pole! Thou mother Earth! and all ye living floods! Infernal furies, and Tartarean gods, Who rule the dead, and horrid woes prepare For perjured kings, and all who falsely swear! Hear, and be witness. If, by Paris slain, Great Menelaus press the fatal plain; The dame and treasures let the Trojan keep, And Greece returning plough the watery deep. If by my brother's lance the Trojan bleed, Be his the wealth and beauteous dame decreed: The appointed fine let Ilion justly pay, And every age record the signal day. This if the Phrygians shall refuse to yield, Arms must revenge, and Mars decide the field.” With that the chief the tender victims slew, And in the dust their bleeding bodies threw; The vital spirit issued at the wound, And left the members quivering on the ground. From the same urn they drink the mingled wine, And add libations to the powers divine. While thus their prayers united mount the sky, “Hear, mighty Jove! and hear, ye gods on high! And may their blood, who first the league confound,

Shed like this wine, disdain the thirsty ground; May all their consorts serve promiscuous lust, And all their lust be scatter'd as the dust!” Thus either host their imprecations join'd, Which Jove refused, and mingled with the wind. The rites now finish'd, reverend Priam rose, And thus express'd a heart o'ercharged with woes: “Ye Greeks and Trojans, let the chiefs engage, But spare the weakness of my feeble age: In yonder walls that object let me shun, Nor view the danger of so dear a son. Whose arms shall conquer and what prince shall fall, Heaven only knows; for heaven disposes all.” This said, the hoary king no longer stay'd, But on his car the slaughter'd victims laid: Then seized the reins his gentle steeds to guide, And drove to Troy, Antenor at his side. Bold Hector and Ulysses now dispose The lists of combat, and the ground inclose: Next to decide, by sacred lots prepare, Who first shall launch his pointed spear in air. The people pray with elevated hands, And words like these are heard through all the bands: “Immortal Jove, high Heaven's superior lord, On lofty Ida's holy mount adored! Whoe'er involved us in this dire debate, O give that author of the war to fate And shades eternal! let division cease, And joyful nations join in leagues of peace.” With eyes averted Hector hastes to turn The lots of fight and shakes the brazen urn. Then, Paris, thine leap'd forth; by fatal chance Ordain'd the first to whirl the weighty lance. Both armies sat the combat to survey. Beside each chief his azure armour lay, And round the lists the generous coursers neigh. The beauteous warrior now arrays for fight, In gilded arms magnificently bright: The purple cuishes clasp his thighs around, With flowers adorn'd, with silver buckles bound: Lycaon's corslet his fair body dress'd, Braced in and fitted to his softer breast; A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder tied, Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side: His youthful face a polish'd helm o'erspread; The waving horse-hair nodded on his head: His figured shield, a shining orb, he takes, And in his hand a pointed javelin shakes. With equal speed and fired by equal charms, The Spartan hero sheathes his limbs in arms.

Now round the lists the admiring armies stand, With javelins fix'd, the Greek and Trojan band. Amidst the dreadful vale, the chiefs advance, All pale with rage, and shake the threatening lance. The Trojan first his shining javelin threw; Full on Atrides' ringing shield it flew, Nor pierced the brazen orb, but with a bound122 Leap'd from the buckler, blunted, on the ground. Atrides then his massy lance prepares, In act to throw, but first prefers his prayers: “Give me, great Jove! to punish lawless lust, And lay the Trojan gasping in the dust: Destroy the aggressor, aid my righteous cause, Avenge the breach of hospitable laws! Let this example future times reclaim, And guard from wrong fair friendship's holy name.” Be said, and poised in air the javelin sent, Through Paris' shield the forceful weapon went, His corslet pierces, and his garment rends, And glancing downward, near his flank descends. The wary Trojan, bending from the blow, Eludes the death, and disappoints his foe: But fierce Atrides waved his sword, and strook Full on his casque: the crested helmet shook; The brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand, Broke short: the fragments glitter'd on the sand. The raging warrior to the spacious skies Raised his upbraiding voice and angry eyes: “Then is it vain in Jove himself to trust? And is it thus the gods assist the just? When crimes provoke us, Heaven success denies; The dart falls harmless, and the falchion flies.” Furious he said, and towards the Grecian crew (Seized by the crest) the unhappy warrior drew; Struggling he followed, while the embroider'd thong That tied his helmet, dragg'd the chief along. Then had his ruin crown'd Atrides' joy, But Venus trembled for the prince of Troy: Unseen she came, and burst the golden band; And left an empty helmet in his hand. The casque, enraged, amidst the Greeks he threw; The Greeks with smiles the polish'd trophy view. Then, as once more he lifts the deadly dart, In thirst of vengeance, at his rival's heart; The queen of love her favour'd champion shrouds

(For gods can all things) in a veil of clouds. Raised from the field the panting youth she led, And gently laid him on the bridal bed, With pleasing sweets his fainting sense renews, And all the dome perfumes with heavenly dews. Meantime the brightest of the female kind, The matchless Helen, o'er the walls reclined; To her, beset with Trojan beauties, came, In borrow'd form, the laughter-loving dame. (She seem'd an ancient maid, well-skill'd to cull The snowy fleece, and wind the twisted wool.) The goddess softly shook her silken vest, That shed perfumes, and whispering thus address'd:

“Haste, happy nymph! for thee thy Paris calls, Safe from the fight, in yonder lofty walls, Fair as a god; with odours round him spread, He lies, and waits thee on the well-known bed; Not like a warrior parted from the foe, But some gay dancer in the public show.” She spoke, and Helen's secret soul was moved; She scorn'd the champion, but the man she loved. Fair Venus' neck, her eyes that sparkled fire, And breast, reveal'd the queen of soft desire.123

Struck with her presence, straight the lively red Forsook her cheek; and trembling, thus she said: “Then is it still thy pleasure to deceive? And woman's frailty always to believe! Say, to new nations must I cross the main, Or carry wars to some soft Asian plain? For whom must Helen break her second vow? What other Paris is thy darling now? Left to Atrides, (victor in the strife,) An odious conquest and a captive wife, Hence let me sail; and if thy Paris bear My absence ill, let Venus ease his care. A handmaid goddess at his side to wait, Renounce the glories of thy heavenly state, Be fix'd for ever to the Trojan shore, His spouse, or slave; and mount the skies no more. For me, to lawless love no longer led, I scorn the coward, and detest his bed; Else should I merit everlasting shame, And keen reproach, from every Phrygian dame: Ill suits it now the joys of love to know, Too deep my anguish, and too wild my woe.”

Then thus incensed, the Paphian queen replies: “Obey the power from whom thy glories rise: Should Venus leave thee, every charm must fly, Fade from thy cheek, and languish in thy eye. Cease to provoke me, lest I make thee more The world's aversion, than their love before; Now the bright prize for which mankind engage, Than, the sad victim, of the public rage.”

At this, the fairest of her sex obey'd, And veil'd her blushes in a silken shade; Unseen, and silent, from the train she moves, Led by the goddess of the Smiles and Loves. Arrived, and enter'd at the palace gate, The maids officious round their mistress wait; Then, all dispersing, various tasks attend; The queen and goddess to the prince ascend. Full in her Paris' sight, the queen of love Had placed the beauteous progeny of Jove; Where, as he view'd her charms, she turn'd away Her glowing eyes, and thus began to say: “Is this the chief, who, lost to sense of shame, Late fled the field, and yet survives his fame? O hadst thou died beneath the righteous sword Of that brave man whom once I call'd my lord! The boaster Paris oft desired the day With Sparta's king to meet in single fray: Go now, once more thy rival's rage excite, Provoke Atrides, and renew the fight: Yet Helen bids thee stay, lest thou unskill'd Shouldst fall an easy conquest on the field.” The prince replies: “Ah cease, divinely fair, Nor add reproaches to the wounds I bear; This day the foe prevail'd by Pallas' power: We yet may vanquish in a happier hour: There want not gods to favour us above; But let the business of our life be love: These softer moments let delights employ, And kind embraces snatch the hasty joy. Not thus I loved thee, when from Sparta's shore My forced, my willing heavenly prize I bore, When first entranced in Cranae's isle I lay,124 Mix'd with thy soul, and all dissolved away!” Thus having spoke, the enamour'd Phrygian boy Rush'd to the bed, impatient for the joy. Him Helen follow'd slow with bashful charms, And clasp'd the blooming hero in her arms. While these to love's delicious rapture yield, The stern Atrides rages round the field: So some fell lion whom the woods obey, Roars through the desert, and demands his prey. Paris he seeks, impatient to destroy, But seeks in vain along the troops of Troy; Even those had yielded to a foe so brave The recreant warrior, hateful as the grave. Then speaking thus, the king of kings arose, “Ye Trojans, Dardans, all our generous foes!

Hear and attest! from Heaven with conquest crown'd, Our brother's arms the just success have found: Be therefore now the Spartan wealth restor'd, Let Argive Helen own her lawful lord; The appointed fine let Ilion justly pay, And age to age record this signal day.” He ceased; his army's loud applauses rise, And the long shout runs echoing through the skies.

ARGUMENT.

THE BREACH OF THE TRUCE, AND THE FIRST BATTLE.

The gods deliberate in council concerning the Trojan war: they agree upon the continuation of it, and Jupiter sends down Minerva to break the truce. She persuades Pandarus to aim an arrow at Menelaus, who is wounded, but cured by Machaon. In the meantime some of the Trojan troops attack the Greeks. Agamemnon is distinguished in all the parts of a good general; he reviews the troops, and exhorts the leaders, some by praises and others by reproof. Nestor is particularly celebrated for his military discipline. The battle joins, and great numbers are slain on both sides.

The same day continues through this as through the last book (as it does also through the two following, and almost to the end of the seventh book). The scene is wholly in the field before Troy. And now Olympus' shining gates unfold; The gods, with Jove, assume their thrones of gold: Immortal Hebe, fresh with bloom divine, The golden goblet crowns with purple wine: While the full bowls flow round, the powers employ Their careful eyes on long-contended Troy. When Jove, disposed to tempt Saturnia's spleen, Thus waked the fury of his partial queen, “Two powers divine the son of Atreus aid, Imperial Juno, and the martial maid;125 But high in heaven they sit, and gaze from far, The tame spectators of his deeds of war. Not thus fair Venus helps her favour'd knight, The queen of pleasures shares the toils of fight, Each danger wards, and constant in her care, Saves in the moment of the last despair. Her act has rescued Paris' forfeit life, Though great Atrides gain'd the glorious strife. Then say, ye powers! what signal issue waits To crown this deed, and finish all the fates!

Shall Heaven by peace the bleeding kingdoms spare, Or rouse the furies, and awake the war? Yet, would the gods for human good provide, Atrides soon might gain his beauteous bride, Still Priam's walls in peaceful honours grow, And through his gates the crowding nations flow.” Thus while he spoke, the queen of heaven, enraged, And queen of war, in close consult engaged: Apart they sit, their deep designs employ, And meditate the future woes of Troy. Though secret anger swell'd Minerva's breast, The prudent goddess yet her wrath suppress'd; But Juno, impotent of passion, broke Her sullen silence, and with fury spoke:

“Shall then, O tyrant of the ethereal reign! My schemes, my labours, and my hopes be vain? Have I, for this, shook Ilion with alarms, Assembled nations, set two worlds in arms? To spread the war, I flew from shore to shore; The immortal coursers scarce the labour bore. At length ripe vengeance o'er their heads impends, But Jove himself the faithless race defends. Loth as thou art to punish lawless lust, Not all the gods are partial and unjust.” The sire whose thunder shakes the cloudy skies, Sighs from his inmost soul, and thus replies: “Oh lasting rancour! oh insatiate hate To Phrygia's monarch, and the Phrygian state! What high offence has fired the wife of Jove? Can wretched mortals harm the powers above,

That Troy, and Troy's whole race thou wouldst confound, And yon fair structures level with the ground! Haste, leave the skies, fulfil thy stern desire, Burst all her gates, and wrap her walls in fire! Let Priam bleed! if yet you thirst for more, Bleed all his sons, and Ilion float with gore: To boundless vengeance the wide realm be given, Till vast destruction glut the queen of heaven! So let it be, and Jove his peace enjoy,126 When heaven no longer hears the name of Troy. But should this arm prepare to wreak our hate On thy loved realms, whose guilt demands their fate; Presume not thou the lifted bolt to stay, Remember Troy, and give the vengeance way. For know, of all the numerous towns that rise Beneath the rolling sun and starry skies, Which gods have raised, or earth-born men enjoy, None stands so dear to Jove as sacred Troy. No mortals merit more distinguish'd grace Than godlike Priam, or than Priam's race. Still to our name their hecatombs expire, And altars blaze with unextinguish'd fire.” At this the goddess rolled her radiant eyes, Then on the Thunderer fix'd them, and replies: “Three towns are Juno's on the Grecian plains, More dear than all the extended earth contains, Mycenae, Argos, and the Spartan wall;127 These thou mayst raze, nor I forbid their fall: 'Tis not in me the vengeance to remove; The crime's sufficient that they share my love. Of power superior why should I complain? Resent I may, but must resent in vain. Yet some distinction Juno might require, Sprung with thyself from one celestial sire, A goddess born, to share the realms above, And styled the consort of the thundering Jove; Nor thou a wife and sister's right deny;128 Let both consent, and both by terms comply; So shall the gods our joint decrees obey, And heaven shall act as we direct the way. See ready Pallas waits thy high commands To raise in arms the Greek and Phrygian bands;

Their sudden friendship by her arts may cease, And the proud Trojans first infringe the peace.” The sire of men and monarch of the sky The advice approved, and bade Minerva fly, Dissolve the league, and all her arts employ To make the breach the faithless act of Troy. Fired with the charge, she headlong urged her flight, And shot like lightning from Olympus' height. As the red comet, from Saturnius sent To fright the nations with a dire portent, (A fatal sign to armies on the plain, Or trembling sailors on the wintry main,) With sweeping glories glides along in air, And shakes the sparkles from its blazing hair:129 Between both armies thus, in open sight Shot the bright goddess in a trail of light, With eyes erect the gazing hosts admire The power descending, and the heavens on fire! “The gods (they cried), the gods this signal sent, And fate now labours with some vast event: Jove seals the league, or bloodier scenes prepares; Jove, the great arbiter of peace and wars.” They said, while Pallas through the Trojan throng, (In shape a mortal,) pass'd disguised along. Like bold Laodocus, her course she bent, Who from Antenor traced his high descent. Amidst the ranks Lycaon's son she found, The warlike Pandarus, for strength renown'd; Whose squadrons, led from black Æsepus' flood,130 With flaming shields in martial circle stood. To him the goddess: “Phrygian! canst thou hear A well-timed counsel with a willing ear? What praise were thine, couldst thou direct thy dart, Amidst his triumph, to the Spartan's heart? What gifts from Troy, from Paris wouldst thou gain, Thy country's foe, the Grecian glory slain? Then seize the occasion, dare the mighty deed, Aim at his breast, and may that aim succeed! But first, to speed the shaft, address thy vow To Lycian Phoebus with the silver bow, And swear the firstlings of thy flock to pay, On Zelia's altars, to the god of day.”131 He heard, and madly at the motion pleased,

His polish'd bow with hasty rashness seized. 'Twas form'd of horn, and smooth'd with artful toil: A mountain goat resign'd the shining spoil. Who pierced long since beneath his arrows bled; The stately quarry on the cliffs lay dead, And sixteen palms his brow's large honours spread: The workmen join'd, and shaped the bended horns, And beaten gold each taper point adorns. This, by the Greeks unseen, the warrior bends, Screen'd by the shields of his surrounding friends: There meditates the mark; and couching low, Fits the sharp arrow to the well-strung bow. One from a hundred feather'd deaths he chose, Fated to wound, and cause of future woes; Then offers vows with hecatombs to crown Apollo's altars in his native town. Now with full force the yielding horn he bends, Drawn to an arch, and joins the doubling ends; Close to his breast he strains the nerve below, Till the barb'd points approach the circling bow; The impatient weapon whizzes on the wing; Sounds the tough horn, and twangs the quivering string. But thee, Atrides! in that dangerous hour The gods forget not, nor thy guardian power, Pallas assists, and (weakened in its force) Diverts the weapon from its destined course: So from her babe, when slumber seals his eye, The watchful mother wafts the envenom'd fly. Just where his belt with golden buckles join'd, Where linen folds the double corslet lined, She turn'd the shaft, which, hissing from above, Pass'd the broad belt, and through the corslet drove; The folds it pierced, the plaited linen tore, And razed the skin, and drew the purple gore. As when some stately trappings are decreed To grace a monarch on his bounding steed, A nymph in Caria or Maeonia bred, Stains the pure ivory with a lively red; With equal lustre various colours vie, The shining whiteness, and the Tyrian dye: So great Atrides! show'd thy sacred blood, As down thy snowy thigh distill'd the streaming flood. With horror seized, the king of men descried The shaft infix'd, and saw the gushing tide: Nor less the Spartan fear'd, before he found The shining barb appear above the wound, Then, with a sigh, that heaved his manly breast, The royal brother thus his grief express'd, And grasp'd his hand; while all the Greeks around With answering sighs return'd the plaintive sound.

“Oh, dear as life! did I for this agree The solemn truce, a fatal truce to thee! Wert thou exposed to all the hostile train, To fight for Greece, and conquer, to be slain! The race of Trojans in thy ruin join, And faith is scorn'd by all the perjured line. Not thus our vows, confirm'd with wine and gore, Those hands we plighted, and those oaths we swore, Shall all be vain: when Heaven's revenge is slow, Jove but prepares to strike the fiercer blow. The day shall come, that great avenging day, When Troy's proud glories in the dust shall lay, When Priam's powers and Priam's self shall fall, And one prodigious ruin swallow all. I see the god, already, from the pole Bare his red arm, and bid the thunder roll; I see the Eternal all his fury shed, And shake his aegis o'er their guilty head. Such mighty woes on perjured princes wait; But thou, alas! deserv'st a happier fate. Still must I mourn the period of thy days, And only mourn, without my share of praise? Deprived of thee, the heartless Greeks no more Shall dream of conquests on the hostile shore; Troy seized of Helen, and our glory lost, Thy bones shall moulder on a foreign coast; While some proud Trojan thus insulting cries, (And spurns the dust where Menelaus lies,) 'Such are the trophies Greece from Ilion brings, And such the conquest of her king of kings! Lo his proud vessels scatter'd o'er the main, And unrevenged, his mighty brother slain.' Oh! ere that dire disgrace shall blast my fame, O'erwhelm me, earth! and hide a monarch's shame.” He said: a leader's and a brother's fears Possess his soul, which thus the Spartan cheers: “Let not thy words the warmth of Greece abate; The feeble dart is guiltless of my fate: Stiff with the rich embroider'd work around, My varied belt repell'd the flying wound.” To whom the king: “My brother and my friend, Thus, always thus, may Heaven thy life defend! Now seek some skilful hand, whose powerful art May stanch the effusion, and extract the dart. Herald, be swift, and bid Machaon bring His speedy succour to the Spartan king; Pierced with a winged shaft (the deed of Troy), The Grecian's sorrow, and the Dardan's joy.” With hasty zeal the swift Talthybius flies; Through the thick files he darts his searching eyes,

And finds Machaon, where sublime he stands132 In arms incircled with his native bands. Then thus: “Machaon, to the king repair, His wounded brother claims thy timely care; Pierced by some Lycian or Dardanian bow, A grief to us, a triumph to the foe.” The heavy tidings grieved the godlike man Swift to his succour through the ranks he ran. The dauntless king yet standing firm he found, And all the chiefs in deep concern around. Where to the steely point the reed was join'd, The shaft he drew, but left the head behind. Straight the broad belt with gay embroidery graced, He loosed; the corslet from his breast unbraced; Then suck'd the blood, and sovereign balm infused,133 Which Chiron gave, and Æsculapius used. While round the prince the Greeks employ their care, The Trojans rush tumultuous to the war; Once more they glitter in refulgent arms, Once more the fields are fill'd with dire alarms. Nor had you seen the king of men appear Confused, unactive, or surprised with fear; But fond of glory, with severe delight, His beating bosom claim'd the rising fight. No longer with his warlike steeds he stay'd, Or press'd the car with polish'd brass inlaid But left Eurymedon the reins to guide; The fiery coursers snorted at his side. On foot through all the martial ranks he moves And these encourages, and those reproves. “Brave men!” he cries, (to such who boldly dare Urge their swift steeds to face the coming war), “Your ancient valour on the foes approve; Jove is with Greece, and let us trust in Jove.

'Tis not for us, but guilty Troy, to dread, Whose crimes sit heavy on her perjured head; Her sons and matrons Greece shall lead in chains, And her dead warriors strew the mournful plains.” Thus with new ardour he the brave inspires; Or thus the fearful with reproaches fires: “Shame to your country, scandal of your kind; Born to the fate ye well deserve to find! Why stand ye gazing round the dreadful plain, Prepared for flight, but doom'd to fly in vain? Confused and panting thus, the hunted deer Falls as he flies, a victim to his fear. Still must ye wait the foes, and still retire, Till yon tall vessels blaze with Trojan fire? Or trust ye, Jove a valiant foe shall chase, To save a trembling, heartless, dastard race?” This said, he stalk'd with ample strides along, To Crete's brave monarch and his martial throng; High at their head he saw the chief appear, And bold Meriones excite the rear. At this the king his generous joy express'd, And clasp'd the warrior to his armed breast. “Divine Idomeneus! what thanks we owe To worth like thine! what praise shall we bestow? To thee the foremost honours are decreed, First in the fight and every graceful deed. For this, in banquets, when the generous bowls Restore our blood, and raise the warriors' souls, Though all the rest with stated rules we bound, Unmix'd, unmeasured, are thy goblets crown'd. Be still thyself, in arms a mighty name; Maintain thy honours, and enlarge thy fame.” To whom the Cretan thus his speech address'd: “Secure of me, O king! exhort the rest. Fix'd to thy side, in every toil I share, Thy firm associate in the day of war. But let the signal be this moment given; To mix in fight is all I ask of Heaven. The field shall prove how perjuries succeed, And chains or death avenge the impious deed.” Charm'd with this heat, the king his course pursues, And next the troops of either Ajax views: In one firm orb the bands were ranged around, A cloud of heroes blacken'd all the ground. Thus from the lofty promontory's brow A swain surveys the gathering storm below; Slow from the main the heavy vapours rise, Spread in dim streams, and sail along the skies, Till black as night the swelling tempest shows, The cloud condensing as the west-wind blows:

He dreads the impending storm, and drives his flock To the close covert of an arching rock. Such, and so thick, the embattled squadrons stood, With spears erect, a moving iron wood: A shady light was shot from glimmering shields, And their brown arms obscured the dusky fields. “O heroes! worthy such a dauntless train, Whose godlike virtue we but urge in vain, (Exclaim'd the king), who raise your eager bands With great examples, more than loud commands. Ah! would the gods but breathe in all the rest Such souls as burn in your exalted breast, Soon should our arms with just success be crown'd, And Troy's proud walls lie smoking on the ground.” Then to the next the general bends his course; (His heart exults, and glories in his force); There reverend Nestor ranks his Pylian bands, And with inspiring eloquence commands; With strictest order sets his train in arms, The chiefs advises, and the soldiers warms. Alastor, Chromius, Haemon, round him wait, Bias the good, and Pelagon the great. The horse and chariots to the front assign'd, The foot (the strength of war) he ranged behind; The middle space suspected troops supply, Inclosed by both, nor left the power to fly; He gives command to “curb the fiery steed, Nor cause confusion, nor the ranks exceed: Before the rest let none too rashly ride; No strength nor skill, but just in time, be tried: The charge once made, no warrior turn the rein, But fight, or fall; a firm embodied train. He whom the fortune of the field shall cast From forth his chariot, mount the next in haste; Nor seek unpractised to direct the car, Content with javelins to provoke the war. Our great forefathers held this prudent course, Thus ruled their ardour, thus preserved their force; By laws like these immortal conquests made, And earth's proud tyrants low in ashes laid.” So spoke the master of the martial art, And touch'd with transport great Atrides' heart. “Oh! hadst thou strength to match thy brave desires, And nerves to second what thy soul inspires! But wasting years, that wither human race, Exhaust thy spirits, and thy arms unbrace. What once thou wert, oh ever mightst thou be! And age the lot of any chief but thee.” Thus to the experienced prince Atrides cried; He shook his hoary locks, and thus replied:

“Well might I wish, could mortal wish renew134 That strength which once in boiling youth I knew; Such as I was, when Ereuthalion, slain Beneath this arm, fell prostrate on the plain. But heaven its gifts not all at once bestows, These years with wisdom crowns, with action those: The field of combat fits the young and bold, The solemn council best becomes the old: To you the glorious conflict I resign, Let sage advice, the palm of age, be mine.” He said. With joy the monarch march'd before, And found Menestheus on the dusty shore, With whom the firm Athenian phalanx stands; And next Ulysses, with his subject bands. Remote their forces lay, nor knew so far The peace infringed, nor heard the sounds of war; The tumult late begun, they stood intent To watch the motion, dubious of the event. The king, who saw their squadrons yet unmoved, With hasty ardour thus the chiefs reproved: “Can Peleus' son forget a warrior's part. And fears Ulysses, skill'd in every art? Why stand you distant, and the rest expect To mix in combat which yourselves neglect? From you 'twas hoped among the first to dare The shock of armies, and commence the war; For this your names are call'd before the rest, To share the pleasures of the genial feast: And can you, chiefs! without a blush survey Whole troops before you labouring in the fray? Say, is it thus those honours you requite? The first in banquets, but the last in fight.” Ulysses heard: the hero's warmth o'erspread His cheek with blushes: and severe, he said: “Take back the unjust reproach! Behold we stand Sheathed in bright arms, and but expect command. If glorious deeds afford thy soul delight, Behold me plunging in the thickest fight. Then give thy warrior-chief a warrior's due, Who dares to act whate'er thou dar'st to view.” Struck with his generous wrath, the king replies: “O great in action, and in council wise! With ours, thy care and ardour are the same,

Nor need I to commend, nor aught to blame. Sage as thou art, and learn'd in human kind, Forgive the transport of a martial mind. Haste to the fight, secure of just amends; The gods that make, shall keep the worthy, friends.” He said, and pass'd where great Tydides lay, His steeds and chariots wedged in firm array; (The warlike Sthenelus attends his side;)135 To whom with stern reproach the monarch cried: “O son of Tydeus! (he, whose strength could tame The bounding steed, in arms a mighty name) Canst thou, remote, the mingling hosts descry, With hands unactive, and a careless eye? Not thus thy sire the fierce encounter fear'd; Still first in front the matchless prince appear'd: What glorious toils, what wonders they recite, Who view'd him labouring through the ranks of fight? I saw him once, when gathering martial powers, A peaceful guest, he sought Mycenae's towers; Armies he ask'd, and armies had been given, Not we denied, but Jove forbade from heaven; While dreadful comets glaring from afar, Forewarn'd the horrors of the Theban war.136 Next, sent by Greece from where Asopus flows, A fearless envoy, he approach'd the foes; Thebes' hostile walls unguarded and alone, Dauntless he enters, and demands the throne. The tyrant feasting with his chiefs he found, And dared to combat all those chiefs around: Dared, and subdued before their haughty lord; For Pallas strung his arm and edged his sword. Stung with the shame, within the winding way, To bar his passage fifty warriors lay; Two heroes led the secret squadron on, Mason the fierce, and hardy Lycophon; Those fifty slaughter'd in the gloomy vale. He spared but one to bear the dreadful tale, Such Tydeus was, and such his martial fire; Gods! how the son degenerates from the sire!” No words the godlike Diomed return'd, But heard respectful, and in secret burn'd: Not so fierce Capaneus' undaunted son; Stern as his sire, the boaster thus begun: “What needs, O monarch! this invidious praise, Ourselves to lessen, while our sire you raise? Dare to be just, Atrides! and confess

Our value equal, though our fury less. With fewer troops we storm'd the Theban wall, And happier saw the sevenfold city fall,137 In impious acts the guilty father died; The sons subdued, for Heaven was on their side. Far more than heirs of all our parents' fame, Our glories darken their diminish'd name.” To him Tydides thus: “My friend, forbear; Suppress thy passion, and the king revere: His high concern may well excuse this rage, Whose cause we follow, and whose war we wage: His the first praise, were Ilion's towers o'erthrown, And, if we fail, the chief disgrace his own. Let him the Greeks to hardy toils excite, 'Tis ours to labour in the glorious fight.” He spoke, and ardent, on the trembling ground Sprung from his car: his ringing arms resound. Dire was the clang, and dreadful from afar, Of arm'd Tydides rushing to the war. As when the winds, ascending by degrees,138 First move the whitening surface of the seas, The billows float in order to the shore, The wave behind rolls on the wave before; Till, with the growing storm, the deeps arise, Foam o'er the rocks, and thunder to the skies. So to the fight the thick battalions throng, Shields urged on shields, and men drove men along Sedate and silent move the numerous bands; No sound, no whisper, but the chief's commands, Those only heard; with awe the rest obey, As if some god had snatch'd their voice away. Not so the Trojans; from their host ascends A general shout that all the region rends. As when the fleecy flocks unnumber'd stand In wealthy folds, and wait the milker's hand, The hollow vales incessant bleating fills, The lambs reply from all the neighbouring hills: Such clamours rose from various nations round, Mix'd was the murmur, and confused the sound. Each host now joins, and each a god inspires, These Mars incites, and those Minerva fires, Pale flight around, and dreadful terror reign; And discord raging bathes the purple plain;

Discord! dire sister of the slaughtering power, Small at her birth, but rising every hour, While scarce the skies her horrid head can bound, She stalks on earth, and shakes the world around;139 The nations bleed, where'er her steps she turns, The groan still deepens, and the combat burns. Now shield with shield, with helmet helmet closed, To armour armour, lance to lance opposed, Host against host with shadowy squadrons drew, The sounding darts in iron tempests flew, Victors and vanquish'd join'd promiscuous cries, And shrilling shouts and dying groans arise; With streaming blood the slippery fields are dyed, And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide. As torrents roll, increased by numerous rills, With rage impetuous, down their echoing hills Rush to the vales, and pour'd along the plain. Roar through a thousand channels to the main: The distant shepherd trembling hears the sound; So mix both hosts, and so their cries rebound. The bold Antilochus the slaughter led, The first who struck a valiant Trojan dead: At great Echepolus the lance arrives, Razed his high crest, and through his helmet drives; Warm'd in the brain the brazen weapon lies, And shades eternal settle o'er his eyes. So sinks a tower, that long assaults had stood Of force and fire, its walls besmear'd with blood. Him, the bold leader of the Abantian throng,140 Seized to despoil, and dragg'd the corpse along: But while he strove to tug the inserted dart, Agenor's javelin reach'd the hero's heart. His flank, unguarded by his ample shield, Admits the lance: he falls, and spurns the field; The nerves, unbraced, support his limbs no more; The soul comes floating in a tide of gore. Trojans and Greeks now gather round the slain; The war renews, the warriors bleed again: As o'er their prey rapacious wolves engage, Man dies on man, and all is blood and rage. In blooming youth fair Simoisius fell, Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell; Fair Simoisius, whom his mother bore Amid the flocks on silver Simois' shore: The nymph descending from the hills of Ide, To seek her parents on his flowery side,

Brought forth the babe, their common care and joy, And thence from Simois named the lovely boy. Short was his date! by dreadful Ajax slain, He falls, and renders all their cares in vain! So falls a poplar, that in watery ground Raised high the head, with stately branches crown'd, (Fell'd by some artist with his shining steel, To shape the circle of the bending wheel,) Cut down it lies, tall, smooth, and largely spread, With all its beauteous honours on its head There, left a subject to the wind and rain, And scorch'd by suns, it withers on the plain Thus pierced by Ajax, Simoisius lies Stretch'd on the shore, and thus neglected dies. At Ajax, Antiphus his javelin threw; The pointed lance with erring fury flew, And Leucus, loved by wise Ulysses, slew. He drops the corpse of Simoisius slain, And sinks a breathless carcase on the plain. This saw Ulysses, and with grief enraged, Strode where the foremost of the foes engaged; Arm'd with his spear, he meditates the wound, In act to throw; but cautious look'd around, Struck at his sight the Trojans backward drew, And trembling heard the javelin as it flew. A chief stood nigh, who from Abydos came, Old Priam's son, Democoon was his name. The weapon entered close above his ear, Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear;141 With piercing shrieks the youth resigns his breath, His eye-balls darken with the shades of death; Ponderous he falls; his clanging arms resound, And his broad buckler rings against the ground. Seized with affright the boldest foes appear; E'en godlike Hector seems himself to fear; Slow he gave way, the rest tumultuous fled; The Greeks with shouts press on, and spoil the dead: But Phoebus now from Ilion's towering height Shines forth reveal'd, and animates the fight. “Trojans, be bold, and force with force oppose; Your foaming steeds urge headlong on the foes! Nor are their bodies rocks, nor ribb'd with steel; Your weapons enter, and your strokes they feel. Have ye forgot what seem'd your dread before? The great, the fierce Achilles fights no more.” Apollo thus from Ilion's lofty towers, Array'd in terrors, roused the Trojan powers: While war's fierce goddess fires the Grecian foe,

And shouts and thunders in the fields below. Then great Diores fell, by doom divine, In vain his valour and illustrious line. A broken rock the force of Pyrus threw, (Who from cold Ænus led the Thracian crew,)142 Full on his ankle dropp'd the ponderous stone, Burst the strong nerves, and crash'd the solid bone. Supine he tumbles on the crimson sands, Before his helpless friends, and native bands, And spreads for aid his unavailing hands. The foe rush'd furious as he pants for breath, And through his navel drove the pointed death: His gushing entrails smoked upon the ground, And the warm life came issuing from the wound. His lance bold Thoas at the conqueror sent, Deep in his breast above the pap it went, Amid the lungs was fix'd the winged wood, And quivering in his heaving bosom stood: Till from the dying chief, approaching near, The Ætolian warrior tugg'd his weighty spear: Then sudden waved his flaming falchion round, And gash'd his belly with a ghastly wound; The corpse now breathless on the bloody plain, To spoil his arms the victor strove in vain; The Thracian bands against the victor press'd, A grove of lances glitter'd at his breast. Stern Thoas, glaring with revengeful eyes, In sullen fury slowly quits the prize. Thus fell two heroes; one the pride of Thrace, And one the leader of the Epeian race; Death's sable shade at once o'ercast their eyes, In dust the vanquish'd and the victor lies. With copious slaughter all the fields are red, And heap'd with growing mountains of the dead. Had some brave chief this martial scene beheld, By Pallas guarded through the dreadful field; Might darts be bid to turn their points away, And swords around him innocently play; The war's whole art with wonder had he seen, And counted heroes where he counted men. So fought each host, with thirst of glory fired, And crowds on crowds triumphantly expired.