Alexander Pope: Selected Poetry and Prose

(Tina Meador) #1

He said; his words the listening chief inspire
With equal warmth, and rouse the warrior’s fire;
The troops pursue their leaders with delight,
Rush to the foe, and claim the promised fight.
Menestheus from on high the storm beheld
Threatening the fort, and blackening in the field:
Around the walls he gazed, to view from far
What aid appeared to avert the approaching war, 60
And saw where Teucer with the Ajaces stood,
Of fight insatiate, prodigal of blood.
In vain he calls; the din of helms and shields
Rings to the skies, and echoes through the fields,
The brazen hinges fly, the walls resound,
Heaven trembles, roar the mountains, thunders all the ground.


Nor could the Greeks repel the Lycian powers,
Nor the bold Lycians force the Grecian towers.
As on the confines of adjoining grounds,
Two stubborn swains with blows dispute their bounds; 70
They tug, they sweat; but neither gain, nor yield,
One foot, one inch, of the contended field;
Thus obstinate to death, they fight, they fall;
Nor these can keep, nor those can win the wall.
Their manly breasts are pierced with many a wound,
Loud strokes are heard, and rattling arms resound;
The copious slaughter covers all the shore,
And the high ramparts drop with human gore.
As when two scales are charged with doubtful loads,
From side to side the trembling balance nods, 80
(While some laborious matron, just and poor,
With nice exactness weighs her woolly store,)
Till poised aloft, the resting beam suspends
Each equal weight; nor this, nor that, descends:
So stood the war, till Hector’s matchless might,
With fates prevailing, turned the scale of fight.
Fierce as a whirlwind up the walls he flies.
And fires his host with loud repeated cries.
‘Advance, ye Trojans! lend your valiant hands,
Haste to the fleet, and toss the blazing brands!’ 90


[270–8]
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