Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/359

365—412 And dost thou thus desert the great in war?

Lo, where yon sails their canvas wings extend,

All comfortless he sits, and wails his friend;

Ere thirst and want his forces have oppressed,

Haste and infuse ambrosia in his breast."

He spoke, and sudden at the word of Jove

Shot the descending goddess from above.

So swift through ether the shrill Harpy springs,

The wide air floating to her ample wings.

To great Achilles she her flight addressed,

And poured divine ambrosia in his breast,

With nectar sweet, refection of the gods;

Then, swift ascending, sought the bright abodes.

Now issued from the ships the warrior train,

And like a deluge poured upon the plain.

As when the piercing blasts of Boreas blow,

And scatter o'er the fields the driving snow;

From dusky clouds the fleecy winter flies,

Whose dazzling lustre whitens all the skies:

So helms succeeding helms, so shields from shields

Catch the quick beams, and brighten all the fields;

Broad glittering breast-plates, spears with pointed rays,

Mix in one stream, reflecting blaze on blaze:

Thick beats the centre as the coursers bound,

With splendour flame the skies, and laugh the fields around.

Full in the midst, high towering o'er the rest,

His limbs in arms divine Achilles dressed;

Arms which the father of the fire bestowed,

Forged on the eternal anvils of the god.

Grief and revenge his furious heart inspire,

His glowing eyeballs roll with living fire;

He grinds his teeth, and furious with delay

Overlooks the embattled host, and hopes the bloody day.

The silver cuishes first his thighs infold;

Then o'er his breast was braced the hollow gold:

The brazen sword a various baldric tied,

That, starred with gems, hung glittering at his side;

And, like the moon, the broad refulgent shield

Blazed with long rays, and gleamed athwart the field.

So to night-wandering sailors, pale with fears,

Wide o'er the watery waste a light appears,

Which on the far-seen mountain blazing high,

Streams from some lonely watch-tower to the sky:

With mournful eyes they gaze and gaze again;

Loud howls the storm, and drives them o'er the main.

Next, his high head the helmet graced; behind

The sweepy crest hung floating in the wind:

Like the red star, that from his flaming hair