Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/363

30—78 "This day we call the council of the skies In care of human race; e'en Jove's own eye Sees with regret unhappy mortals die. Far on Olympus' top in secret state Ourself will sit, and see the hand of fate Work out our will. Celestial powers! descend, And, as your minds direct, your succour lend To either host. Troy soon must lie o'erthrown, If uncontrolled Achilles fights alone: Their troops but lately durst not meet his eyes; What can they now, if in his rage he rise? Assist them, gods! or Ilion's sacred wall May fall this day, though fate forbids the fall." He said, and fired their heavenly breasts with rage: On adverse parts the warring gods engage. Heaven's awful queen; and he whose azure round Girds the vast globe; the Maid in arms renowned; Hermes, of profitable arts the sire, And Vulcan, the black sovereign of the fire: These to the fleet repair with instant flight; The vessels tremble as the gods alight. In aid of Troy, Latona, Phoebus came, Mars fiery-helmed, the laughter-loving dame, Xanthus, whose streams in golden currents flow, And the chaste huntress of the silver bow. Ere yet the gods their various aid employ, Each Argive bosom swelled with manly joy, While great Achilles, terror of the plain, Long lost to battle, shone in arms again. Dreadful he stood in front of all his host; Pale Troy beheld, and seemed already lost; Her bravest heroes pant with inward fear, And trembling see another god of war. But when the powers descending swelled the fight, Then tumult rose; fierce rage and pale affright Varied each face; then discord sounds alarms, Earth echoes, and the nations rush to arms. Now through the trembling shores Minerva calls, And now she thunders from the Grecian walls. Mars, hovering o'er his Troy, his terror shrouds In gloomy tempests, and a night of clouds: Now through each Trojan heart he fury pours With voice divine from Ilion's topmost towers; Now shouts to Simois, from her beauteous hill; The mountain shook, the rapid stream stood still. Above, the sire of gods his thunder rolls, And peals on peals redoubled round the poles. Beneath, stern Neptune shakes the solid ground; The forests wave, the mountains nod around;