Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/235

418—466 Let Telamon, at least, our towers defend,

And Teucer haste, with his unerring bow,

To share the danger, and repel the foe."

Swift as the word, the herald speeds along

The lofty ramparts, through the martial throng;

And finds the heroes, bathed in sweat and gore,

Opposed in combat on the dusty shore.

"Ye valiant leaders of our warlike bands!

Your aid," said Thoös, "Peteus' son demands.

Your strength, united, best may help to bear

The bloody labours of the doubtful war:

Thither the Lycian princes bend their course,

The best and bravest of the hostile force.

But if too fiercely here the foes contend,

At least let Telamon those towers defend,

And Teucer haste, with his unerring bow,

To share the danger, and repel the foe."

Straight to the fort great Ajax turned his care,

And thus bespoke his brothers of the war:

"Now, valiant Lycomede! exert your might,

And, brave Oïleus, prove your force in fight:

To you I trust the fortune of the field,

Till by this arm the foe shall be repelled:

That done, expect me to complete the day"

Then, with his seven-fold shield, he strode away.

With equal steps bold Teucer pressed the shore,

Whose fatal bow the strong Pandion bore.

High on the walls appeared the Lycian powers,

Like some black tempest gathering round the towers;

The Greeks, oppressed, their utmost force unite,

Prepared to labour in the unequal fight;

The war renews, mixed shouts and groans arise;

Tumultuous clamour mounts, and thickens in the skies.

Fierce Ajax first the advancing host invades,

And sends the brave Epicles to the shades,

Sarpedon's friend; across the warrior's way,

Rent from the walls a rocky fragment lay;

In modern ages not the strongest swain

Could heave the unwieldy burthen from the plain.

He poised, and swung it round; then tossed on high;

It flew with force, and laboured up the sky:

Full on the Lycian's helmet thundering down,

The ponderous ruin crushed his battered crown.

As skilful divers from some airy steep

Headlong descend, and shoot into the deep,

So falls Epicles; then in groans expires,

And murmuring to the shades the soul retires.

While to the ramparts daring Glaucus drew,

From Teucer's hand a winged arrow flew;