Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/312

310 Around, in heaps on heaps, a dreadful wall

Of carnage rises, as the heroes fall.

So Jove decreed! At length the Greeks obtain

The prize contested, and despoil the slain.

The radiant arms are by Patroclus borne,

Patroclus' ships the glorious spoils adorn.

Then thus to Phoebus in the realms above,

Spoke from his throne the cloud-compelling Jove:

"Descend, my Phœbus! on the Phrygian plain,

And from the fight convey Sarpedon slain:

Then bathe his body in the crystal flood,

With dust dishonoured, and deformed with blood:

O'er all his limbs ambrosial odours shed,

And with celestial robes adorn the dead.

Those rites discharged, his sacred corse bequeath

To the soft arms of silent Sleep and Death:

They to his friends the mournful charge shall bear:

His friends a tomb and pyramid shall rear;

What honours mortals after death receive,

Those unavailing honours we may give."

Apollo bows, and from mount Ida's height,

Swift to the field precipitates his flight;

Thence from the war the breathless hero bore,

Veiled in a cloud to silver Simois' shore;

There bathed his honourable wounds, and dressed

His manly members in the immortal vest:

And with perfumes of sweet ambrosial dews,

Restores his freshness, and his form renews.

Then Sleep and Death, two twins of winged race,

Of matchless swiftness, but of silent pace,

Received Sarpedon at the god's command,

And in a moment reached the Lycian land;

The corse amidst his weeping friends they laid,

Where endless honours wait the sacred shade.

Meanwhile Patroclus pours along the plains,

With foaming coursers, and with loosened reins:

Fierce on the Trojan and the Lycian crew,

Ah blind to fate! thy headlong fury flew:

Against what fate and powerful Jove ordain,

Vain was thy friend's command, thy courage vain.

For he, the god, whose counsels uncontrolled

Dismay the mighty, and confound the bold,

The god who gives, resumes, and orders all,

He urged thee on, and urged thee on to fall.

Who first, brave hero, by that arm was slain,

Who last beneath thy vengeance pressed the plain,

When heaven itself thy fatal fury led,

And called to fill the number of the dead?

Adrestus first; Autonoüs then succeeds;