Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/317



the cold earth divine Patroclus spread,

Lies pierced with wounds among the vulgar dead.

Great Menelaus, touched with generous woe,

Springs to the front, and guards him from the foe:

Thus, round her new-fallen young the heifer moves,

Fruit of her throes, and first-born of her loves;

And anxious, helpless as he lies, and bare,

Turns and re-turns her, with a mother's care.

Opposed to each that near the carcass came,

His broad shield glimmers, and his lances flame.

The son of Panthus, skilled the dart to send,

Eyes the dead hero, and insults the friend:

"This hand, Atrides, laid Patroclus low;

Warrior, desist, nor tempt an equal blow.

To me the spoils my prowess won, resign;

Depart with life, and leave the glory mine."

The Trojan thus: the Spartan monarch burned

With generous anguish, and in scorn returned:

"Laugh'st thou not, Jove! from thy superior throne,

When mortals boast of prowess not their own?

Not thus the lion glories in his might,

Nor panther braves his spotted foe in fight,