FROM THE THIRTEENTH BOOK OF
THE chiefs were set, the soldiers crowned the field; To these the master of the sevenfold shield Upstarted fierce; and, kindled with disdain, Eager to speak, unable to contain
His boiling rage, he rolled his eyes around The shore, and Grecian gallies hauled a-ground. Then stretching out his hands, O Jove, he cried, Must then our cause before the fleet be tried? And dares Ulysses for the prize contend, In sight of what he durst not once defend; But basely fled, that memorable day,
When I from Hector's hands redeemed the flaming prey?
So much 'tis safer at the noisy bar
With words to fiourish, than engage in war.
By different methods we maintained our right, Nor am I made to talk, nor he to fight. In bloody fields I labour to be great;
His arms are a smooth tongue, and soft deceit. Nor need I speak my deeds, for those you see; The sun and day are witnesses for me. Let him, who fights unseen, relate his own, And vouch the silent stars, and conscious moon. Great is the prize demanded, I confess, But such an abject rival makes it less. That gift, those honours, he but hoped to gain, Can leave no room for Ajax to be vain; Losing he wins, because his name will be Ennobled by defeat, who durst contend with me. Were mine own valour questioned, yet my blood Without that plea would make my title good; My sire was Telamon, whose arms, employed With Hercules, these Trojan walls destroyed; And who before, with Jason, sent from Greece, In the first ship brought home the golden fleece : Great Telamon from Eacus derives
His birth: (the inquisitor of guilty lives
In shades below; where Sisyphus, whose son This thief is thought, rolls up the restless heavy stone.) Just Eacus the king of gods above
Begot; thus Ajax is the third from Jove. Nor should I seek advantage from my line, Unless, Achilles, it were mixed with thine: As next of kin Achilles' arms I claim; This fellow would ingraft a foreign name Upon our stock, and the Sisyphian seed By fraud and theft asserts his father's breed. Then must I lose these arms, because I came To fight uncalled, a voluntary name?
Nor shunned the cause, but offered you my aid, While he, long lurking, was to war betrayed:
Forced to the field he came, but in the rear, And feigned distraction, to conceal his fear; Till one more cunning caught him in the snare, Ill for himself, and dragged him into war. Now let a hero's arms a coward vest,
And he, who shunned all honours, gain the best; And let me stand excluded from my right, Robbed of my kinsman's arms, who first appeared in fight.
Better for us at home he had remained,
Had it been true the madness which he feigned, Or so believed; the less had been our shame, The less his counselled crime, which brands the Grecian name;
Nor Philoctetes had been left inclosed In a bare isle, to wants and pains exposed; Where to the rocks, with solitary groans, His sufferings and our baseness he bemoans, And wishes (so may heaven his wish fulfil!) The due reward to him who caused his ill. Now he, with us to Troy's destruction sworn, Our brother of the war, by whom are borne Alcides' arrows, pent in narrow bounds,
With cold and hunger pinched, and pained with wounds,
To find him food and clothing, must employ Against the birds the shafts due to the fate of Troy. Yet still he lives, and lives from treason free, Because he left Ulysses' company;
Poor Palamede might wish, so void of aid, Rather to have been left, than so to death betrayed. The coward bore the man immortal spite, Who shamed him out of madness into fight; Nor daring otherwise to vent his hate, Accused him first of treason to the state; And then, for proof, produced the golden store Himself had hidden in his tent before.
Thus of two champions he deprived our host, By exile one, and one by treason lost. Thus fights Ulysses, thus his fame extends, A formidable man, but to his friends;
Great, for what greatness is in words and sound; Even faithful Nestor less in both is found But, that he might without a rival reign, He left his faithful Nestor on the plain; Forsook his friend even at his utmost need, Who, tired, and tardy with his wounded steed, Cried out for aid, and called him by his name; But cowardice has neither ears nor shame. Thus fled the good old man, bereft of aid, And, for as much as lay in him, betrayed. That this is not a fable forged by me, Like one of his, an Ulyssean lie,
I vouch even Diomede, who, though his friend, Cannot that act excuse, much less defend : He called him back aloud, and taxed his fear; And sure enough he heard, but durst not hear. The gods with equal eyes on mortals look ; He justly was forsaken, who forsook ; Wanted that succour he refused to lend, Found every fellow such another friend. No wonder if he roared, that all might hear His elocution was increased by fear;
I heard, I ran, I found him out of breath, Pale, trembling, and half-dead with fear of death. Though he had judged himself by his own laws,
And stood condemned, I helped the common cause: With my broad buckler hid him from the foe, (Even the shield trembled as he lay below,) And from impending fate the coward freed; Good heaven forgive me for so bad a deed! If still he will persist, and urge the strife, First let him give me back his forfeit life;
Let him return to that opprobrious field, Again creep under my protecting shield; Let him lie wounded, let the foe be near, And let his quivering heart confess his fear; There put him in the very jaws of fate, And let him plead his cause in that estate; And yet, when snatched from death, when from below My lifted shield I loosed, and let him go,
Good heavens, how light he rose! with what a bound He sprung from earth, forgetful of his wound!. How fresh, how eager then his feet to ply! Who had not strength to stand, had speed to fly! Hector came on, and brought the gods along; Fear seized alike the feeble and the strong; Each Greek was an Ulysses; such a dread The approach, and even the sound, of Hector bred; Him, fleshed with slaughter, and with conquest crowned,
I met, and overturned him to the ground. When after, matchless as he deemed in might, He challenged all our host to single fight, All eyes were fixed on me; the lots were thrown, But for your champion I was wished alone. Your vows were heard; we fought, and neither yield; Yet I returned unvanquished from the field. With Jove to friend, the insulting Trojan came, And menaced us with force, our fleet with flame; Was it the strength of this tongue-valiant lord, In that black hour, that saved you from the sword? Or was my breast exposed alone, to brave A thousand swords, a thousand ships to save, The hopes of your return? and can you yield, For a saved fleet, less than a single shield? Think it no boast, O Grecians, if I deem These arms want Ajax, more than Ajax them
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