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Then raised with hope, and fired with glory's charms, His fainting squadrons to new fury warms. "O where, ye Lycians, is the strength you boast? Your former fame and ancient virtue lost!
The breach lies open, but your chief in vain Attempts alone the guarded pass to gain: Unite, and soon that hostile fleet shall falclass="underline" The force of powerful union conquers all."
This just rebuke inflamed the Lycian crew; They join, they thicken, and the assault renew: Unmoved the embodied Greeks their fury dare, And fix'd support the weight of all the war;
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;
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 drip with human gore.
As when two scales are charged with doubtful loads, From side to side the trembling balance nods, (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:[227] So stood the war, till Hector's matchless might, With fates prevailing, turn'd 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!"
They hear, they run; and, gathering at his call, Raise scaling engines, and ascend the walclass="underline" Around the works a wood of glittering spears Shoots up, and all the rising host appears.
A ponderous stone bold Hector heaved to throw, Pointed above, and rough and gross below: Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise, Such men as live in these degenerate days:
Yet this, as easy as a swain could bear The snowy fleece, he toss'd, and shook in air; For Jove upheld, and lighten'd of its load The unwieldy rock, the labour of a god.
Thus arm'd, before the folded gates he came, Of massy substance, and stupendous frame; With iron bars and brazen hinges strong, On lofty beams of solid timber hung:
Then thundering through the planks with forceful sway, Drives the sharp rock; the solid beams give way, The folds are shatter'd; from the crackling door Leap the resounding bars, the flying hinges roar.
Now rushing in, the furious chief appears, Gloomy as night! and shakes two shining spears:[228] A dreadful gleam from his bright armour came, And from his eye–balls flash'd the living flame.
He moves a god, resistless in his course, And seems a match for more than mortal force. Then pouring after, through the gaping space, A tide of Trojans flows, and fills the place;
The Greeks behold, they tremble, and they fly; The shore is heap'd with death, and tumult rends the sky.

GREEK ALTAR.

Book XIII

The Fourth Battle Continued, in Which Neptune Assists the Greeks: The Acts of Idomeneus

Neptune, concerned for the loss of the Grecians, upon seeing the fortification forced by Hector, (who had entered the gate near the station of the Ajaces,) assumes the shape of Calchas, and inspires those heroes to oppose him: then, in the form of one of the generals, encourages the other Greeks who had retired to their vessels. The Ajaces form their troops in a close phalanx, and put a stop to Hector and the Trojans. Several deeds of valour are performed; Meriones, losing his spear in the encounter, repairs to seek another at the tent of Idomeneus: this occasions a conversation between those two warriors, who return together to the battle. Idomeneus signalizes his courage above the rest; he kills Othryoneus, Asius, and Alcathous: Deiphobus and Æneas march against him, and at length Idomeneus retires. Menelaus wounds Helenus, and kills Pisander. The Trojans are repulsed on the left wing; Hector still keeps his ground against the Ajaces, till, being galled by the Locrian slingers and archers, Polydamas advises to call a council of war: Hector approves of his advice, but goes first to rally the Trojans; upbraids Paris, rejoins Polydamas, meets Ajax again, and renews the attack.

The eight–and–twentieth day still continues. The scene is between the Grecian wall and the sea–shore.

When now the Thunderer on the sea–beat coast Had fix'd great Hector and his conquering host, He left them to the fates, in bloody fray To toil and struggle through the well–fought day.
Then turn'd to Thracia from the field of fight Those eyes that shed insufferable light, To where the Mysians prove their martial force, And hardy Thracians tame the savage horse;
And where the far–famed Hippomolgian strays, Renown'd for justice and for length of days;[229] Thrice happy race! that, innocent of blood, From milk, innoxious, seek their simple food:
Jove sees delighted; and avoids the scene Of guilty Troy, of arms, and dying men: No aid, he deems, to either host is given, While his high law suspends the powers of Heaven.
Meantime the monarch of the watery main Observed the Thunderer, nor observed in vain. In Samothracia, on a mountain's brow, Whose waving woods o'erhung the deeps below,
He sat; and round him cast his azure eyes Where Ida's misty tops confusedly rise; Below, fair Ilion's glittering spires were seen; The crowded ships and sable seas between.
There, from the crystal chambers of the main Emerged, he sat, and mourn'd his Argives slain. At Jove incensed, with grief and fury stung, Prone down the rocky steep he rush'd along;
Fierce as he pass'd, the lofty mountains nod, The forest shakes; earth trembled as he trod, And felt the footsteps of the immortal god. From realm to realm three ample strides he took, And, at the fourth, the distant Ægae shook.
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227

Each equal weight.

"Long time in even scale The battle hung."

—"Paradise Lost," vi. 245.

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228

"He on his impious foes right onward drove, Gloomy as night."

—"Paradise Lost," vi. 831

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229

Renown'd for justice and for length of days, Arrian. de Exp. Alex. iv. p. 239, also speaks of the independence of these people, which he regards as the result of their poverty and uprightness. Some authors have regarded the phrase "Hippomolgian," i.e. "milking their mares," as an epithet applicable to numerous tribes, since the oldest of the Samatian nomads made their mares' milk one of their chief articles of diet. The epithet abion or abion, in this passage, has occasioned much discussion. It may mean, according as we read it, either "long–lived," or "bowless," the latter epithet indicating that they did not depend upon archery for subsistence.