My works the Trojans all the grace,
And doth the Grecian fort deface.
Patroclus thus employ’d in cure of hurt Eurypylus,
Both hosts are all for other wounds doubly contentious,
One always labouring to expel, the other to invade.
Nor could the broad dike of the Greeks, or that strong wall they made
To guard their fleet, be long unras’d; because it was not rais’d
By grave direction of the Gods, nor were their Deities prais’d
(When they begun) with hecatombs, that then they might be sure
(Their strength being season’d well with heav’n’s) it should have force t’ endure,
And so, the safeguard of their fleet, and all their treasure there,
Infallibly had been confirm’d; when, now, their bulwarks were
Not only without pow’r of check to their assaulting foe
(Ev’n now, as soon as they were built) but apt to overthrow;
Such as, in very little time, shall bury all their sight
And thought that ever they were made. As long as the despite
Of great Æacides held up, and Hector went not down,
And that by those two means stood safe king Priam’s sacred town,
So long their rampire had some use, though now it gave some way;
But when Troy’s best men suffer’d fate, and many Greeks did pay
Dear for their suff’rance, then the rest home to their country turn’d,
The tenth year of their wars at Troy, and Troy was sack’d and burn’d.
And then the Gods fell to their fort; then they their pow’rs employ
To ruin their work, and left less of that than they of Troy.
Neptune and Phœbus tumbled down, from the Idalian hills,
An inundation of all floods, that thence the broad sea fills
On their huge rampire; in one glut, all these together roar’d,
Rhesus, Heptaporus, Rhodius, Scamander the ador’d,
Caresus, Simois, Grenicus, Æsepus; of them all
Apollo open’d the rough mouths, and made their lusty fall
Ravish the dusty champian, where many a helm and shield,
And half-god race of men, were strew’d. And, that all these might yield
Full tribute to the heav’nly work, Neptune and Phœbus won
Jove to unburthen the black wombs of clouds, fill’d by the sun,
And pour them into all their streams, that quickly they might send
The huge wall swimming to the sea. Nine days their lights did spend
To nights in tempests; and when all their utmost depth had made,
Jove, Phœbus, Neptune, all came down, and all in state did wade
To ruin of that impious fort. Great Neptune went before,
Wrought with his trident, and the stones, trunks, roots of trees, he tore
Out of the rampire, toss’d them all into the Hellespont,
Ev’n all the proud toil of the Greeks, with which they durst confront
The to-be shunnéd Deities, and not a stone remain’d
Of all their huge foundations, all with the earth were plain’d.
Which done, again the Gods turn’d back the silver-flowing floods
By that vast channel, through whose vaults they pour’d abroad their broods,
And cover’d all the ample shore again with dusty sand.
And this the end was of that wall, where now so many a hand
Was emptied of stones and darts, contending to invade;
Where Clamour spent so high a throat; and where the fell blows made
The new-built wooden turrets groan. And here the Greeks were pent,
Tam’d with the iron whip of Jove, that terrors vehement
Shook over them by Hector’s hand, who was in ev’ry thought
The terror-master of the field, and like a whirlwind fought,
As fresh as in his morn’s first charge. And as a savage boar,
Or lion, hunted long, at last, with hounds’ and hunters’ store
Is compass’d round; they charge him close, and stand (as in a tow’r
They had inchas’d him) pouring on of darts an iron show’r;
His glorious heart yet nought appall’d, and forcing forth his way,
Here overthrows a troop, and there a running ring doth stay
His utter passage; when, again, that stay he overthrows,
And then the whole field frees his rage; so Hector wearies blows,
Runs out his charge upon the fort, and all his force would force
To pass the dike; which, being so deep, they could not get their horse
To venture on, but trample, snore, and on the very brink
To neigh with spirit, yet still stand off. Nor would a human think
The passage safe; or, if it were, ’twas less safe for retreat;
The dike being ev’rywhere so deep, and, where ’twas least deep, set
With stakes exceeding thick, sharp, strong, that horse could never
pass,
Much less their chariots after them; yet for the foot there was
Some hopeful service, which they wish’d. Polydamas then spake:
“Hector, and all our friends of Troy, we indiscreetly make
Offer of passage with our horse; ye see the stakes, the wall,
Impossible for horse to take; nor can men fight at all,
The place being strait, and much more apt to let us take our bane
Than give the enemy. And yet, if Jove decree the wane
Of Grecian glory utterly, and so bereave their hearts
That we may freely charge them thus, and then will take our parts,
I would with all speed wish th’ assault, that ugly shame might shed
(Thus far from home) these Grecians’ bloods. But, if they once turn
head
And sally on us from their fleet, when in so deep a dike
We shall lie struggling, not a man of all our host is like
To live and carry back the news. And therefore be it thus:
Here leave we horse kept by our men, and all on foot let us
Hold close together, and attend the grace of Hector’s guide,
And then they shall not bear our charge, our conquest shall be dyed
In their lives’ purples.” This advice pleas’d Hector, for ’twas sound;
Who first obey’d it, and full-arm’d betook him to the ground.
And then all left their chariots when he was seen to lead,
Rushing about him, and gave up each chariot and steed
To their directors to be kept, in all procinct of war,
There, and on that side of the dike. And thus the rest prepare
Their onset: In five regiments they all their pow’r divide,
Each regiment allow’d three chiefs. Of all which ev’n the pride
Serv’d in great Hector’s regiment; for all were set on fire
(Their passage beaten through the wall) with hazardous desire
That they might once but fight at fleet. With Hector captains were
Polydamas, and Cebriones, who was his charioteer;
But Hector found that place a worse. Chiefs of the second band
Were Paris and Alcathous, Agenor. The command
The third strong phalanx had, was giv’n to th’ augur Helenus,
Deiphobus, that god-like man, and mighty Asius,
Ev’n Asius Hyrtacides, that from Arisba rode
The huge bay horse, and had his house where river Selleës flow’d.
The fourth charge good Æneas led, and with him were combin’d
Archelochus, and Acamas, Antenor’s dearest kind,
And excellent at ev’ry fight. The fifth brave company
Sarpedon had to charge, who choos’d, for his command’s supply,
Asteropseus great in arms, and Glaucus; for both these
Were best of all men but himself, but he was fellowless.
Thus fitted with their well-wrought shields, down the steep dike they
go,
And (thirsty of the wall’s assault) believe in overthrow,
Not doubting but with headlong falls to tumble down the Greeks
From their black navy. In which trust, all on; and no man seeks
To cross Polydamas’ advice with any other course,
But Asius Hyrtacides, who (proud of his bay horse)
Would not forsake them, nor his man, that was their manager,
(Fool that he was) but all to fleet, and little knew how near
An ill death sat him, and a sure, and that he never more
Must look on lofty Ilion; but looks, and all, before,
Put on th’ all-cov’ring mist of fate, that then did hang upon
The lance of great Deucalides; he fatally rush’d on
The left hand way, by which the Greeks, with horse and chariot,
Came usually from field to fleet; close to the gates he got,
Which both unbarr’d and ope he found, that so the easier might
An entry be for any friend that was behind in flight;
Yet not much easier for a foe, because there was a guard
Maintain’d upon it, past his thought; who still put for it hard,
Eagerly shouting; and with him were five more friends of name,
That would not leave him, though none else would hunt that way for fame
(In their free choice) but he himself. Orestes, Iamenus,
And Acamas Asiades, Thoon, Oenomaus,
Were those that follow’d Asius. Within the gates they found
Two eminently valorous, that from the race renown’d
Of the right valiant Lapithes deriv’d their high descent;
Fierce Leontëus was the one, like Mars in detriment.[1]
The other mighty Polypæt, the great Pirithous’ son.
These stood within the lofty gates, and nothing more did shun
The charge of Asius and his friends, than two high hill-bred oaks,
Well-rooted in the binding earth, obey the airy strokes
Of wind and weather, standing firm ’gainst ev’ry season’s spite.
Yet they pour on continued shouts, and bear their shields upright;
When in the mean space Polypæt and Leonteus cheer’d
Their soldiers to the fleet’s defence. But when the rest had heard
The Trojans in attempt to scale, clamour and flight did flow
Amongst the Grecians; and then, the rest dismay’d, these two
Met Asius ent’ring, thrust him back, and fought before their doors.
Nor far’d they then like oaks that stood, but as a brace of boars,
Couch’d in their own bred hill, that hear a sort of hunter’s shout,
And hounds in hot trail coming on, then from their dens break out,
Traverse their force, and suffer not, in wildness of their way,
About them any plant to stand, but thickets off’ring stay
Break through, and rend up by the roots, whet gnashes into air,
Which Tumult fills with shouts, hounds, horns, and all the hot affair
Beats at their bosoms; so their arms rung with assailing blows,
And so they stirr’d them in repulse, right well assur’d that those
Who were within, and on the wall, would add their parts, who knew
They now fought for their tents, fleet, lives, and fame, and therefore
threw
Stones from the walls and tow’rs, as thick as when a drift wind shakes
Black clouds in pieces, and plucks snow, in great and plumy flakes,
From their soft bosoms, till the ground be wholly cloth’d in white;
So earth was hid with stones and darts, darts from the Trojan fight,
Stones from the Greeks, that on the helms and bossy Trojan shields
Kept such a rapping, it amaz’d great Asius, who now yields
Sighs, beats his thighs, and in a rage his fault to Jove applies:
“O Jove,” said he, “now clear thou show’st thou art a friend to lies,
Pretending, in the flight of Greece, the making of it good,
To all their ruins, which I thought could never be withstood;
Yet they, as yellow wasps, or bees (that having made their nest[2]
The grasping cranny of a hill) when for a hunter’s feast
Hunters come hot and hungry in, and dig for honey-combs,
Then fly upon them, strike and sting, and from their hollow homes
Will not be beaten, but defend their labour’s fruit, and brood;
No more will these be from their port, but either lose their blood
(Although but two against all us) or be our pris’ners made.”
All this, to do his action grace, could not firm Jove persuade,
Who for the gen’ral counsel stood, and ’gainst his singular brave,
Bestow’d on Hector that day’s fame. Yet he and these behave
Themselves thus nobly at this port; but how at other ports,
And all alongst the stony wall, sole force, ’gainst force and forts,
Rag’d in contention ’twixt both hosts, it were no easy thing,
Had I the bosom of a God, to tune to life and sing.
The Trojans fought not of themselves, a fire from heav’n was thrown
That ran amongst them, through the wall, mere added to their own.
The Greeks held not their own; weak Grief went with her wither’d hand,
And dipp’d it deeply in their spirits, since they could not command
Their forces to abide the field, whom harsh Necessity,
To save those ships should bring them home, and their good fort’s
supply,
Drave to th’ expulsive fight they made; and this might stoop them more
Than Need itself could elevate, for ev’n Gods did deplore
Their dire estates, and all the Gods that were their aids in war,
Who, though they could not clear their plights, yet were their friends
thus far,
Still to uphold the better sort; for then did Polypæt pass
A lance at Damasus, whose helm was made with cheeks of brass,
Yet had not proof enough, the pile drave through it and his skull.
His brain in blood drown’d, and the man, so late so spiritfull,
Fell now quite spiritless to earth. So emptied he the veins
Of Pylon, and Ormenus’ lives. And then Leonteüs gains
The life’s end of Hippomachus, Antimachus’s son;
His lance fell at his girdle-stead, and with his end begun
Another end. Leonteüs left him, and through the prease
(His keen sword drawn) ran desp’rately upon Antiphates,
And lifeless tumbled him to earth. Nor could all these lives quench
His fi’ry spirit, that his flame in Menon’s blood did drench,
And rag’d up ev’n to Iamen’s, and young Orestes’ life;
All heap’d together made their peace in that red field of strife.
Whose fair arms while the victors spoil’d, the youth of Ilion
(Of which there serv’d the most and best) still boldly built upon
The wisdom of Polydamas, and Hector’s matchless strength,
And follow’d, fill’d with wondrous spirit, with wish and hope at length,
The Greeks’ wall won, to fire their fleet. But, having pass’d the dike,
And willing now to pass the wall, this prodigy did strike
Their hearts with some delib’rate stay: A high-flown eagle soar’d
On their troops’ left hand, and sustain’d a dragon, all engor’d,
In her strong seres, of wondrous size, and yet had no such check
In life and spirit but still she fought, and turning back her neck
So stung the eagle’s gorge, that down she cast her fervent prey
Amongst the multitude, and took upon the winds her way,
Crying with anguish. When they saw a branded serpent sprawl
So full amongst them from above, and from Jove’s fowl let fall,
They took it an ostent from him, stood frighted, and their cause
Polydamas thought just, and spake: “Hector, you know, applause
Of humour hath been far from me; nor fits it, or in war,
Or in affairs of court, a man employ’d in public care
To blanch things further than their truth, or flatter any pow’r;
And therefore for that simple course your strength has oft been sour
To me in councils; yet again, what shows in my thoughts best,
I must discover. Let us cease, and make their flight our rest
For this day’s honour, and not now attempt the Grecian fleet,
For this, I fear, will be th’ event, the prodigy doth meet
So full with our affair in hand. As this high-flying fowl
Upon the left wing of our host, implying our control,
Hover’d above us, and did truss within her golden seres
A serpent so embru’d and big, which yet, in all her fears,
Kept life and fervent spirit to fight, and wrought her own release,
Nor did the eagle’s eyry feed; so though we thus far prease
Upon the Grecians, and perhaps may overrun their wall,
Our high minds aiming at their fleet, and that we much appall
Their trusséd spirits; yet are they so serpent-like dispos’d
That they will fight, though in our seres, and will at length be los’d
With all our outcries, and the life of many a Trojan breast
Shall with the eagle fly, before we carry to our nest
Them, or their navy.” Thus expounds the augur this ostent,
Whose depth he knows, and these should fear. Hector, with count’nance
bent,
Thus answer’d him: “Polydamas, your depth in augury
I like not, and know passing well thou dost not satisfy
Thyself in this opinion; or if thou think’st it true,
Thy thoughts the Gods blind, to advise, and urge that as our due,
That breaks our duties, and to Jove, whose vow and sign to me
Is pass’d directly for our speed; yet light-wing’d birds must be,
By thy advice, our oracles, whose feathers little stay
My serious actions. What care I, if this, or th’ other, way
Their wild wings sway them; if the right, on which the sun doth rise,
Or, to the left hand, where he sets? ’Tis Jove’s high counsel flys
With those wings that shall bear up us; Jove’s, that both earth and
heav’n,
Both men and Gods, sustains and rules. One augury is giv’n
To order all men, best of all; Fight for thy country’s right.
But why fear’st thou our further charge? For though the dang’rous fight
Strew all men here about the fleet, yet thou need’st never fear
To bear their fates; thy wary heart will never trust thee where
An enemy’s look is; and yet fight, for, if thou dar’st abstain,
Or whisper into any ear an abstinence so vain
As thou advisest, never fear that any foe shall take
Thy life from thee, for ’tis this lance.” This said, all forwards make,
Himself the first; yet before him exulting Clamour flew,
And thunder-loving Jupiter from lofty Ida blew
A storm that usher’d their assault, and made them charge like him.
It drave directly on the fleet a dust so fierce and dim
That it amaz’d the Grecians, but was a grace divine
To Hector and his following troops, who wholly did incline
To him, being now in grace with Jove, and so put boldly on
To raze the rampire; in whose height they fiercely set upon
The parapets, and pull’d them down, raz’d ev’ry foremost fight,
And all the buttresses of stone, that held their tow’rs upright,
They tore away with crows of iron, and hop’d to ruin all.
The Greeks yet stood, and still repair’d the fore-fights of their wall
With hides of oxen, and from thence, they pour’d down stones in show’rs
Upon the underminer’s heads. Within the foremost tow’rs
Both the Ajaces had command, who answer’d ev’ry part,
Th’ assaulters, and their soldiers, repress’d, and put in heart;
Repairing valour as their wall; spake some fair, some reprov’d,
Whoever made not good his place; and thus they all sorts mov’d:
“O countrymen, now need in aid would have excess be spent,
The excellent must be admir’d, the meanest excellent,
The worst do well. In changing war all should not be alike,
Nor any idle; which to know fits all, lest Hector strike
Your minds with frights, as ears with threats. Forward be all your
hands,
Urge one another. This doubt down, that now betwixt us stands,
Jove will go with us to their walls.” To this effect aloud
Spake both the princes; and as high, with this, th’ expulsion flow’d.
And as in winter time, when Jove his cold sharp jav’lins throws
Amongst us mortals, and is moved to white earth with his snows,
The winds asleep, he freely pours, till highest prominents,
Hill tops, low meadows, and the fields that crown with most contents
The toils of men, seaports, and shores, are hid, and ev’ry place,
But floods, that snow’s fair tender flakes, as their own brood,
embrace;
So both sides cover’d earth with stones, so both for life contend,
To show their sharpness; through the wall uproar stood up an end.
Nor had great Hector and his friends the rampire overrun,
If heav’n’s great Counsellor, high Jove, had not inflam’d his son
Sarpedon (like the forest’s king when he on oxen flies)
Against the Grecians; his round targe he to his arm applies,
Brass-leav’d without, and all within thick ox-hides quilted hard,
The verge nail’d round with rods of gold; and, with two darts prepar’d,
He leads his people. As ye see a mountain-lion fare,
Long kept from prey, in forcing which, his high mind makes him dare
Assault upon the whole full fold, though guarded never so
With well-arm’d men, and eager dogs; away he will not go,
But venture on, and either snatch a prey, or be a prey;
So far’d divine Sarpedon’s mind, resolv’d to force his way
Through all the fore-fights, and the wall; yet since he did not see
Others as great as he in name, as great in mind as he,
He spake to Glaucus:[3] “Glaucus, say, why are we honour’d more
Than other men of Lycia, in place; with greater store
Of meats and cups; with goodlier roofs; delightsome gardens; walks;
More lands and better; so much wealth, that court and country talks
Of us and our possessions, and ev’ry way we go,
Gaze on us as we were their Gods? This where we dwell is so;
The shores of Xanthus ring of this; and shall we not exceed
As much in merit as in noise? Come, be we great in deed
As well as look; shine not in gold, but in the flames of fight;
That so our neat-arm’d Lycians may say: ‘See, these are right
Our kings, our rulers; these deserve to eat and drink the best;
These govern not ingloriously; these, thus exceed the rest,
Do more than they command to do.’ O friend, if keeping back
Would keep back age from us, and death, and that we might not wrack
In this life’s human sea at all, but that deferring now
We shunn’d death ever, nor would I half this vain valour show,
Nor glorify a folly so, to wish thee to advance;
But since we must go, though not here, and that, besides the chance
Propos’d now, there are infinite fates of other sort in death,
Which, neither to be fled nor ’scaped, a man must sink beneath,
Come, try we, if this sort be ours, and either render thus
Glory to others, or make them resign the like to us.”
This motion Glaucus shifted not, but without words obey’d.
Foreright went both, a mighty troop of Lycians followéd.
Which by Menestheus observ’d, his hair stood up on end,
For, at the tow’r where he had charge, he saw Calamity bend
Her horrid brows in their approach. He threw his looks about
The whole fights near, to see what chief might help the mis’ry out
Of his poor soldiers, and beheld where both th’ Ajaces fought,
And Teucer newly come from fleet; whom it would profit nought
To call, since tumult on their helms, shields, and upon the ports,
Laid such loud claps; for ev’ry way, defences of all sorts
Were adding, as Troy took away; and Clamour flew so high
Her wings strook heav’n, and drown’d all voice. The two dukes yet so
nigh
And at the offer of assault, he to th’ Ajaces sent
Thoos the herald with this charge: “Run to the regiment
Of both th’ Ajaces, and call both, for both were better here,
Since here will slaughter, instantly, be more enforc’d than there.
The Lycian captains this way make, who in the fights of stand
Have often show’d much excellence. Yet if laborious hand
Be there more needful than I hope, at least afford us some,
Let Ajax Telamonius and th’ archer Teucer come.”
The herald hasted, and arriv’d; and both th’ Ajaces told,
That Peteus’ noble son desir’d their little labour would
Employ himself in succouring him. Both their supplies were best,
Since death assail’d his quarter most; for on it fiercely press’d
The well-prov’d mighty Lycian chiefs. Yet if the service there
Allow’d not both, he pray’d that one part of his charge would bear,
And that was Ajax Telamon, with whom he wish’d would come
The archer Teucer. Telamon left instantly his room
To strong Lycomedes, and will’d Ajax Oiliades
With him to make up his supply, and fill with courages
The Grecian hearts till his return; which should he instantly
When he had well reliev’d his friend. With this the company
Of Teucer he took to his aid; Teucer, that did descend
(As Ajax did) from Telamon. With these two did attend
Pandion, that bore Teucer’s bow. When to Menestheus’ tow’r
They came, alongst the wall, they found him, and his hearten’d pow’r,
Toiling in making strong their fort. The Lycian princes set
Black whirlwind-like, with both their pow’rs, upon the parapet.
Ajax, and all, resisted them. Clamour amongst them rose.
The slaughter Ajax led; who first the last dear sight did close
Of strong Epicles, that was friend to Jove’s great Lycian son.
Amongst the high munition heap, a mighty marble stone
Lay highest, near the pinnacle, a stone of such a paise
That one of this time’s strongest men with both hands could not raise,
Yet this did Ajax rouse and throw, and all in sherds did drive
Epicles’ four-topp’d casque and skull; who (as ye see one dive
In some deep river) left his height; life left his bones withal.
Teucer shot Glaucus, rushing up yet higher on the wall,
Where naked he discern’d his arm, and made him steal retreat
From that hot service, lest some Greek, with an insulting threat,
Beholding it, might fright the rest. Sarpedon much was griev’d
At Glaucus parting, yet fought on, and his great heart reliev’d
A little with Alcmaon’s blood, surnam’d Thestorides,
Whose life he hurl’d out with his lance; which following through the
prease
He drew from him. Down from the tow’r Alcmaon dead it strook;
His fair arms ringing out his death. Then fierce Sarpedon took
In his strong hand the battlement, and down he tore it quite,
The wall stripp’d naked, and broad way for entry and full fight
He made the many. Against him Ajax and Teucer made;
Teucer the rich belt on his breast did with a shaft invade;
But Jupiter averted death, who would not see his son
Die at the tails of th’ Achive ships. Ajax did fetch his run,
And, with his lance, strook through the targe of that brave Lycian
king;
Yet kept he it from further pass, nor did it anything
Dismay his mind, although his men stood off from that high way
His valour made them, which he kept, and hop’d that stormy day
Should ever make his glory clear. His men’s fault thus he blam’d:
“O Lycians, why are your hot spirits so quickly disinflam’d?
Suppose me ablest of you all, ’tis hard for me alone
To ruin such a wall as this, and make confusion
Way to their navy. Lend your hands. What many can dispatch,
One cannot think. The noble work of many hath no match.”
The wise king’s just rebuke did strike a rev’rence to his will
Through all his soldiers; all stood in, and ’gainst all th’ Achives
still
Made strong their squadrons, insomuch, that to the adverse side,
The work show’d mighty, and the wall, when ’twas within descried,
No easy service; yet the Greeks could neither free their wall
Of these brave Lycians, that held firm the place they first did scale;
Nor could the Lycians from their fort the sturdy Grecians drive,
Nor reach their fleet. But as two men about the limits strive
Of land that toucheth in a field, their measures in their hands,
They mete their parts out curiously, and either stiffly stands
That so far is his right in law, both hugely set on fire
About a passing-little ground; so, greedily aspire
Both these foes to their sev’ral ends, and all exhaust their most
About the very battlements (for yet no more was lost ).[4]
With sword and fire they vex’d for them their targes hugely round,
With ox-hides lin’d, and bucklers light; and many a ghastly wound
The stern steel gave for that one prise; whereof though some receiv’d
Their portions on their naked backs, yet others were bereav’d
Of brave lives, face-turn’d, through their shields; tow’rs, bulwarks,
ev’rywhere
Were freckled with the blood of men. Nor yet the Greeks did bear
Base back-turn’d faces; nor their foes would therefore be out-fac’d.
But as a spinster poor and just, ye sometimes see, straight-lac’d
About the weighing of her web, who, careful, having charge
For which she would provide some means, is loth to be too large
In giving or in taking weight, but ever with her hand
Is doing with the weights and wool, till both in just paise stand;[5]
So ev’nly stood it with these foes, till Jove to Hector gave
The turning of the scales; who first against the rampire drave,
And spake so loud that all might hear: “O stand not at the pale,
Brave Trojan friends, but mend your hands; up, and break through the
wall,
And make a bonfire of their fleet.” All heard, and all in heaps
Got scaling-ladders, and aloft. In mean space, Hector leaps
Upon the port, from whose out-part he tore a massy stone,
Thick downwards, upward edg’d; it was so huge an one
That two vast yeomen of most strength, such as these times beget,[6]
Could not from earth lift to a cart, yet he did brandish it
Alone, Saturnius made it light; and swinging it as nought,
He came before the planky gates, that all for strength were wrought,
And kept the port; two-fold they were, and with two rafters barr’d,
High, and strong-lock’d; he rais’d the stone, bent to the hurl so hard,
And made it with so main a strength, that all the gates did crack,
The rafters left them, and the folds one from another brake,
The hinges piecemeal flew, and through the fervent little rock
Thunder’d a passage; with his weight th’ inwall his breast did knock,
And in rush’d Hector, fierce and grim as any stormy night;
His brass arms round about his breast reflected terrible light;
Each arm held-up held each a dart; his presence call’d up all
The dreadful spirits his being held, that to the threaten’d wall
None but the Gods might check his way; his eyes were furnaces;
And thus he look’d back, call’d in all. All fir’d their courages,
And in they flow’d. The Grecians fled, their fleet now and their
freight
Ask’d all their rescue. Greece went down; Tumult was at his height.