Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/254

252 But good Agenor gently from the wound The spear solicits, and the bandage bound; A sling's soft wool, snatched from a soldier's side, At once the tent and ligature supplied. Behold! Pisander, urged by Fate's decree, Springs from the ranks to fall, and fall by thee, Great Menelaüs! to enhance thy fame; High towering in the front, the warrior came. First the sharp lance was by Atrides thrown; The lance far distant by the winds was blown. Nor pierced Pisander through Atrides' shield; Pisander's spear fell shivered on the field. Not so discouraged, to the future blind, Vain dreams of conquest swell his haughty mind; Dauntless he rushes where the Spartan lord Like lightning brandished his far-beaming sword. His left arm high opposed the shining shield; His right, beneath, the covered pole-axe held— An olive's cloudy grain the handle made, Distinct with studs, and brazen was the blade— Thus on the helm discharged a noble blow; The plume dropped nodding to the plain below, Shorn from the crest. Atrides waved his steel; Deep through his front the weighty faulchion fell; The crashing bones before its force gave way; In dust and blood the groaning hero lay; Forced from their ghastly orbs, and spouting gore, The clotted eyeballs tumble on the shore. The fierce Atrides spurned him as he bled, Tore off his arms, and loud exulting said: "Thus, Trojans, thus, at length be taught to fear; O race perfidious, who delight in war! Already noble deeds ye have performed, A princess raped transcends a navy stormed: In such bold feats your impious might approve, Without the assistance or the fear of Jove. The violated rites, the ravished dame, Our heroes slaughtered, and our ships on flame, Crimes heaped on crimes, shall bend your glory down, And whelm in ruins yon flagitious town. O thou, great Father, lord of earth and skies, Above the thought of man, supremely wise! If from thy hand the fates of mortals flow, From whence this favour to an impious foe, A godless crew, abandoned and unjust, Still breathing rapine, violence, and lust? The best of things, beyond their measure, cloy; Sleep's balmy blessing, love's endearing joy; The feast, the dance; whate'er mankind desire,