Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/391



to their bulwarks, smit with panic fear,

The herded Ilians rush like driven deer;

There safe, they wipe the briny drops away,

And drown in bowls the labours of the day.

Close to the walls, advancing o'er the fields,

Beneath one roof of well-compacted shields,

March, bending on, the Greeks' embodied powers,

Far-stretching in the shade of Trojan towers.

Great Hector singly stayed; chained down by fate,

There fixed he stood before the Scæan gate;

Still his bold arms determined to employ,

The guardian still of long-defended Troy.;

Apollo now to tired Achilles turns,

The power confessed in all his glory burns,

"And what," he cries, "has Peleus' son in view,

With mortal speed a godhead to pursue?

For not to thee to know the gods is given,

Unskilled to trace the latent marks of heaven.

What boots thee now, that Troy forsook the plain?

Vain thy past labour, and thy present vain:

Safe in their walls are now her troops bestowed,

While here thy frantic rage attacks a god."