Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/346

344 Like some fair plant, beneath my careful hand,

He grew, he flourished, and he graced the land:

To Troy I sent him ; but his native shore

Never, ah never, shall receive him more!

E'en while he lives, he wastes with secret woe,

Nor I, a goddess, can retard the blow!

Robbed of the prize the Grecian suffrage gave,

The king of nations forced his royal slave:

For this he grieved; and, till the Greeks oppressed

Required his arm, he sorrowed unredressed.

Large gifts they promise, and their elders send;

In vain—he arms not, but permits his friend

His arms, his steeds, his forces, to employ;

He marches, combats, almost conquers Troy:

Then slain by Phœbus Hector—had the name

At once resigns his armour, life, and fame.

But thou, in pity, by my prayer be won;

Grace with immortal arms this short-lived son,

And to the field in martial pomp restore,

To shine with glory, till he shines no more!"

To her the artist-god: "Thy griefs resign,

Secure, what Vulcan can, is ever thine.

Oh could I hide him from the fates as well,

Or with these hands the cruel stroke repel,

As I shall forge most envied arms, the gaze

Of wondering ages, and the world's amaze!"

Thus having said, the father of the fires

To the black labours of his forge retires.

Soon as he bade them blow, the bellows turned

Their iron mouths, and, where the furnace burned,

Resounding breathed : at once the blast expires,

And twenty forges catch at once the fires;

Just as the god directs, now loud, now low,

They raise a tempest, or they gently blow.

In hissing flames huge silver bars are rolled,

And stubborn brass, and tin, and solid gold:

Before, deep fixed, the eternal anvils stand;

The ponderous hammer loads his better hand,

His left with tongs turns the vexed metal round;

And thick strong strokes the doubling vaults rebound.

Then first he formed the immense and solid shield;

Rich various artifice emblazed the field;

Its utmost verge a threefold circle bound;

A silver chain suspends the massy round:

Five ample plates the broad expanse compose,

And godlike labours on the surface rose.

There shone the image of the master-mind:

There earth, there heaven, there ocean, he designed;

The unwearied sun, the moon completely round;