Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/124

122 Far from the car the strong immortal lance.

Then threw the force of Tydeus' warlike son;

The javelin hissed; the goddess urged it on:

Where the broad cincture girt his armour round,

It pierced the god: his groin received the wound.

From the rent skin the warrior tugs again

The smoking steel. Mars bellows with the pain:

Loud, as the roar encountering armies yield,

When shouting millions shake the thundering field.

Both armies start, and trembling gaze around;

And earth and heaven rebellow to the sound.

As vapours blown by Auster's sultry breath,

Pregnant with plagues and shedding seeds of death

Beneath the rage of burning Sirius rise,

Choke the parched earth, and blacken all the skies;

In such a cloud the god, from combat driven,

High o'er the dusty whirlwind scales the heaven.

Wild with his pain, he sought the bright abodes,

There sullen sat beneath the sire of gods,

Shewed the celestial blood, and with a groan

Thus poured his plaints before the immortal throne:

"Can Jove, supine, flagitious facts survey,

And brook the furies of this daring day?

For mortal men celestial powers engage,

And gods on gods exert eternal rage.

From thee, O father! all these ills we bear,

And thy fell daughter with the shield and spear:

Thou gavest that fury to the realms of light,

Pernicious, wild, regardless of the right.

All heaven beside reveres thy sovereign sway,

Thy voice we hear, and thy behests obey:

'Tis hers to offend, and, e'en offending, share

Thy breast, thy counsels, thy distinguished care:

So boundless she, and thou so partial grown,

Well may we deem the wondrous birth thy own.

Now frantic Diomed, at her command,

Against the immortals lifts his raging hand:

The heavenly Venus first his fury found,

Me next encountering, me he dared to wound;

Vanquished I fled: e'en I, the god of fight,

From mortal madness scarce was saved by flight.

Else hadst thou seen me sink on yonder plain.

Heaped round, and heaving under loads of slain;

Or, pierced with Grecian darts, for ages lie,

Condemned to pain, though fated not to die."

Him thus upbraiding, with a wrathful look

The lord of thunders viewed, and stern bespoke:

"To me, perfidious! this lamenting strain?

Of lawless force shall lawless Mars complain?