Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/56

54 Haste, then, for ever leave the Trojan wall!

Our weeping wives, our tender children call:

Love, duty, safety, summon us away,

'Tis nature's voice, and nature we obey.

Our shattered barks may yet transport us o'er,

Safe and inglorious, to our native shore.

Fly, Grecians, fly! your sails and oars employ,

And dream no more of heaven-defended Troy."

His deep design unknown, the hosts approve

Atrides' speech; the mighty numbers move.

So roll the billows to the Icarian shore,

From east and south when winds begin to roar,

Burst their dark mansions in the clouds, and sweep

The whitening surface of the ruffled deep:

And as on corn when western gusts descend,

Before the blast the lofty harvests bend;

Thus o'er the field the moving host appears,

With nodding plumes and groves of waving spears.

The gathering murmur spreads, their trampling feet

Beat the loose sands, and thicken to the fleet.

With long-resounding cries they urge the train

To fit the ships, and launch into the main.

They toil, they sweat, thick clouds of dust arise,

The doubling clamours echo through the skies.

E'en then the Greeks had left the hostile plain,

And fate decreed the fall of Troy in vain;

But Jove's imperial queen their flight surveyed,

And sighing thus bespoke the blue-eyed Maid:

"Shall then the Grecians fly? O dire disgrace!

And leave unpunished this perfidious race?

Shall Troy, shall Priam, and the adulterous spouse,

In peace enjoy the fruits of broken vows?

And bravest chiefs, in Helen's quarrel slain,

Lie unavenged on yon detested plain?

No: let my Greeks, unmoved by vain alarms,

Once more refulgent shine in brazen arms;

Haste, goddess, haste! the flying host detain,

Nor let one sail be hoisted on the main."

Pallas obeys, and from Olympus' height

Swift to the ships precipitates her flight;

Ulysses, first in public cares, she found,

For prudent counsel like the gods renowned;

Oppressed with generous grief the hero stood,

Nor drew his sable vessels to the flood.

"And is it thus, divine Laërtes' son!

Thus fly the Greeks?" the martial Maid begun,

"Thus to their country bear their own disgrace,

And fame eternal leave to Priam's race?

Shall beauteous Helen still remain unfreed,