Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/98

96 Whose cause we follow, and whose war we wage;

His the first praise, were Ilion's towers o'erthrown,

And, if we fail, the chief disgrace his own.

Let him the Greeks to hardy toils excite,

'Tis ours to labour in the glorious fight."

He spoke, and ardent on the trembling ground

Sprung from his car; his ringing arms resound.

Dire was the clang, and dreadful from afar,

Of armed Tydides rushing to the war.

As when the winds, ascending by degrees,

First move the whitening surface of the seas,

The billows float in order to the shore,

The wave behind rolls on the wave before;

Till, with the growing storm, the deeps arise,

Foam o'er the rocks, and thunder to the skies:

So to the fight the thick battalions throng,

Shields urged on shields, and men drove men along.

Sedate and silent move the numerous bands;

No sound, no whisper, but their chief's commands.

Those only heard; with awe the rest obey,

As if some god had snatched their voice away.

Not so the Trojans; from their host ascends

A general shout that all the region rends.

As when the fleecy flocks unnumbered stand

In wealthy folds, and wait the milker's hand,

The hollow vales incessant bleating fills,

The lambs reply from all the neighbouring hills:

Such clamours rose from various nations round,

Mixed was the murmur, and confused the sound.

Each host now joins, and each a god inspires,

These Mars incites, and those Minerva fires.

Pale Flight around, and dreadful Terror reign;

And Discord raging bathes the purple plain:

Discord! dire sister of the slaughtering Power,

Small at her birth, but rising every hour;

While scarce the skies her horrid head can bound,

She stalks on earth, and shakes the world around;

The nations bleed, where'er her steps she turns;

The groan still deepens, and the combat burns.

Now shield with shield, with helmet helmet closed,

To armour armour, lance to lance opposed,

Host against host with shadowy squadrons drew,

The sounding darts in iron tempests flew.

Victors and vanquished join promiscuous cries,

And shrilling shouts and dying groans arise;

With streaming blood the slippery fields are dyed,

And slaughtered heroes swell the dreadful tide.

As torrents roll, increased by numerous rills,

With rage impetuous down their echoing hills,