Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/242

240 For lo! the fated time, the appointed shore;

Hark! the gates burst, the brazen barriers roar!

Impetuous Hector thunders at the wall;

The hour, the spot, to conquer or to fall."

These words the Grecians' fainting hearts inspire,

And listening armies catch the godlike fire.

Fixed at his post was each bold Ajax found,

With well-ranged squadrons strongly circled round:

So close their order, so disposed their fight,

As Pallas' self might view with fixed delight;

Or had the god of war inclined his eyes,

The god of war had owned a just surprise;

A chosen phalanx, firm, resolved as fate,

Descending Hector and his battle wait.

An iron scene gleams dreadful o'er the fields,

Armour in armour locked, and shields in shields,

Spears lean on spears, on targets targets throng,

Helms stuck to helms, and man drove man along.

The floating plumes unnumbered wave above,

As when an earthquake stirs the nodding grove:

And, levelled at the skies with pointing rays,

Their brandished lances at each motion blaze.

Thus breathing death, in terrible array,

The close-compacted legions urged their way:

Fierce they drove on, impatient to destroy;

Troy charged the first, and Hector first of Troy.

As from some mountain's craggy forehead torn,

A rock's round fragment flies with fury borne,

Which from the stubborn stone a torrent rends,

Precipitate the ponderous mass descends:

From steep to steep the rolling ruin bounds;

At every shock the crackling wood resounds;

Still gathering force, it smokes; and, urged amain,

Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain:

There stops—So Hector. Their whole force he proved,

Resistless when he raged, and, when he stopped, unmoved.

On him the war is bent, the darts are shed,

And all their faulchions wave around his head:

Repulsed he stands, nor from his stand retires;

But with repeated shouts his army fires.

"Trojans! be firm; this arm shall make your way

Through yon square body, and that black array;

Stand, and my spear shall rout their scattering power,

Strong as they seem, embattled like a tower.

For he that Juno's heavenly bosom warms,

The first of gods, this day inspires our arms."

He said, and roused the soul in every breast.

Urged with desire of fame, beyond the rest,

Forth marched Deïphobus; but marching held,