Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/227

28—75 And half the skies descend in sluicy showers.

The god of ocean, marching stern before,

With his huge trident wounds the trembling shore,

Vast stones and piles from their foundation heaves,

And whelms the smoky ruin in the waves.

Now, smoothed with sand, and levelled by the flood,

No fragment tells where once the wonder stood;

In their old bounds the rivers roll again,

Shine 'twixt the hills, or wander o'er the plain.

But this the gods in later times perform;

As yet the bulwark stood, and braved the storm;

The strokes yet echoed of contending powers;

War thundered at the gates, and blood distained the towers.

Smote by the arm of Jove, with dire dismay

Close by their hollow ships the Grecians lay;

Hector's approach in every wind they hear,

And Hector's fury every moment fear.

He, like a whirlwind, tossed the scattering throng,

Mingled the troops, and drove the field along.

So, 'midst the dogs and hunters' daring bands,

Fierce of his might, a boar or lion stands;

Armed foes around a dreadful circle form,

And hissing javelins rain an iron storm;

His powers untamed their bold assault defy,

And, where he turns, the rout disperse, or die:

He foams, he glares, he bounds against them all,

And, if he falls, his courage makes him fall.

With equal rage encompassed Hector glows;

Exhorts his armies, and the trenches shows.

The panting steeds impatient fury breathe,

But snort and tremble at the gulf beneath;

Just on the brink, they neigh, and paw the ground,

And the turf trembles, and the skies resound;

Eager they viewed the prospect dark and deep,

Vast was the leap, and headlong hung the steep;

The bottom bare, a formidable show,

And bristled thick with sharpened stakes below.

The foot alone this strong defense could force,

And try the pass impervious to the horse.

This saw Polydamas; who, wisely brave,

Restrained great Hector, and this counsel gave:

"O thou! bold leader of our Trojan bands,

And you, confederate chiefs from foreign lands,

What entrance here can cumbrous chariots find,

The stakes beneath, the Grecian walls behind?

No pass through those without a thousand wounds;

No space for combat in yon narrow bounds.

Proud of the favors mighty Jove has shown,