Book XVI

kinds, to whose fury I was exposed night and day: I gathered a few leaves into an heap for my bed; and my whole pofTeflions were a wooden vefTel of the rudeft workmanfhip, and a few tattered garments, which I wrapped round my wound to flaunch the blood, and used also to clean it. In this place, forsaken of man, and hateful to the Gods, I sometimes endeavoured to fufpend the fcnfe of my misery, by fhooting at the pigeons and other birds that slew round the rock: wljen I had brought one to the ground, I crawled with great pain and difficulty to take it up, that it might serve me for food; and thus, my own hands provided mc fubfiftence.

" The Greeks, indeed, leftmefomeprovifions, when they quitted the island; but these were soon exhausted. I drefTed such as I procured, at a fire which I kindled by flriking a flint.- and this kind of life, rude and forlornc as it was, would not have been unpleafing to me, the ingratitude and perfidy of man having reconciled me to solitude, if it had not been for the pain that I endured from my wound, and the perpetual review of my fmgular misfortunes. " What! said I to myself, feduce a man from his country, upon pretence that he alone can avenge the caufc of Greece; and then leave him in an uninhabited illand, while he is aflecp!" for I was asleep, when the Greeks dcferted me; and you may judge in what an agony of confternation and grief I awaked, and saw their fleet flanding from the shore. I looked round mc, to find some gleam of comfort j but all was desolation and despair.

" This island had neither port nor commerce; and was not only without inhabitants, but without vifitors, except such as came by force. As no man set foot on the fliorc, but those who were driven thither by tempefls, I could hope for society, only by fhipwrcck; and I knew, that if diflrefs ihould force any unfortunate mariners

Go upon upon the island, they would not dare to take me with them when they left it, left they should incur the refentment, not of the Greeks only, but the Gods. I suffered remorse, and pain, and hunger, ten years; I languifhed with a wound that I could not cure; and hope itself was extinguifhed in my breast.

" One day, as I returned from seeking some medicinal herbs for my wound, I was furprized to find, at the entrance of my cave, a young man of a graceful appearance, but a lofty and heroic port. I took him, at the first glance, for Achilles, whom he greatly refembled in his features, afpe6t, and deportment; and I was convinced of my mistake, only by his age. I observed, that his whole countenance exprelTed perplexity and compassion: he was touched to see, with what pain and difficulty I crawled along; and his heart melted at my complaints, which the echoes of the shore returned.

" I called out, while I was yet at a distance, " O stranger! what misfortune has cast thee upon this island, forsaken of men? I know thy habit to be Grecian; an habit, which, in fpight of my wrongs, I love. O! let me hear thy voice; and once more find, upon thy lips, that language which I learned in infancy, and which this dreadful solitude has fo long forbidden me to speak. Let not my appearance alarm you; for the wretch whom you behold, is not an objecft of fear, but of pity." The stranger had no sooner answered, " I am a Greek!" than I cried out, " After such silence without aflbciate, such pain without consolation, how sweet is the found! O my son! what misfortune, what tempeft, or rather what favouring gale has brought thee hither, to put an end to my sufferings V He replied, " I am of the island of Scyros, whither I am about to return; and it is said, that I am the son of Achilles: I have now answered your enquiries." So brief a reply left my

J curiosity* curlofity unfatisficd: " O son of Achilles, said I! the friend of my heart, who wcrt fostered by Lycomedcs with the tenderness of a parent, whence art thou come, and what has brought thee to this place?" *' I come, he replied, from the siege of Troy." " Thou wast not, said I, in the first expedition." " Wast thou in it then r" said he. " I perceive, said I, that thou knowest neither the name, nor the misfortunes of Philodetes. Wretch that I am! my perfecutors infult me in my calamity. Greece is a stranger to my sufferings, which every moment increase. The Atrides have reduced me to this condition: may the Gods reward them as they deserve!"

*' I then related the manner, in which I had been abandoned by the Greeks: and, as soon as Neoptolcmus had heard my complaints, he made me the confident of his own. " After the death of Achilles," said he, — "How! said I, is Achilles dead? Forgive the tears that interrupt you, for I owe them to the memory of your father." " Such interruption, replied Neoptolemus, is foothing to my sorrow: what can fo much alleviate my loss, as the tears of Philoc^etes i"

" Neoptolemus then resumed his llory. " After the death of Achilles, said he, Ulysses and Phcnix came to mc, and told mc, that Troy could not be taken, till I came to the siege. I was easily persuaded to go with them; for my grief for the death of Achilles, and a desire of inheriting his glory in fo celebrated a war, were inducements that almost made perfuafion unneceflary. When I arrived at Sigeum, the whole army gathered round me: every one was ready to swear, that he beheld Achilles; but alas! Achilles was no more. In the prcfumption of youth and inexperience, I thought I might hope every thing from those, who were fo liberal of praifc; I, therefore, demanded my father s arms of the Atrides; but their anfwcr was a cruel difappointment of my expecTrations:

O o 2 <« You

•' You ihall have, said they, whatever else belonged to your father | but his arms are allotted to Ulysses."

" This threw me into confusion, and tears, and rage. But Ulysses replied, without emotion, " You have not endured, with us, the dangers of a tedious siege; you have not merited such arms; you have demanded them too proudly, and they shall never be yours." My right being thus unjustly wrefted from me, I am returning to the isle of Scyros, yet more incenfed againll the Atrides than Ulysses: to all, who are their enemies, may the Gods be friends! And now, PhilocStetes, I have told thee all."

" I then asked Neoptolemus, how it happened, that Ajax, the Ton of Telamon, did not interpofe to prevent fo flagitious an injustice? " Ajax, said he, is dead." *' Is Ajax dead, said I, and Ulysses alive, and profperous?" I then enquired after Antilochus, the son of Neflor; and Patroclus, the favourite of Achilles: " They also, said he, are dead." " Alas, said I, are Antilochus and Patroclus dead.' How does war, with unrelenting and undiftinguifhing defl;ru6tion, fweep away the righteous, and spare the wicked! Ulysses lives; and fo, I doubt not, does Therfites. Such is the ordination, of the Gods! and yet we flill honour them with praise.'"

" While I was thus burning with refentment against your father, Neoptolemus continued to deceive me: " I am going, said he with a mournful accent, to live content in the isle of Scyros; which,, though uncultivated and obscure, is yet far from the armies of Greece, where evil prevails over good. Farewel 1 may the Gods vouchfafe to reilore thy health!" " O my son! said I, I conjure thee by the manes of thy father, by thy mother, and by all that is dear to thee upon earth, not to leave me alone in this extremity of pain and sorrow: I know I shall be a burden to you, but it would difgrace your humanity to leave me here. Place mc in the prowj

B O O K XV. 2^s

^row, the ftern, or even the hold of your vefTel, wherever I shall Icaft ofFcnd you: m the efthiiation of a noble mind, there is glory in doing good. Do not abandon me in a defart, where there are no traces of men: take me with you to Scyros; or leave me at Eubxa, where I lliall be near to Mount Oeta, to Trachin, and the pleafmg banks of Theflalian Sperchius; or send me back to my father! Alas! my tears suggest, that my father is dead: I sent to him for a veflcl, which has never arrived; and it is, therefore, certain, either that he is dead, or that those who promised to acquaint him with my distress have betrayed their trust. My lafl hope is in thee, O my son I Consider the uncertainty of all fublunary things: the profperous should fear to abuse prosperity; and never fail to fuccour the distress, which they are liable to feel!"

" Such, in the intolerable anguish of my mind, was my address to N^optolemus, and he promised to take me with him. My heart then leaped for joy: " O happy day! said I; O amiable Neoptolemus, worthy to inherit the glory of thy father! Ye dear companions, with whom I shall return to the world of life, fufifer mc to bid this mournful retreat farevvel: see where I have lived, and consider what I have endured 1 My sufferings have been more than another could sustain; but I was inftrudied by necefllty, and she teaches what otherwise could not be known: those who are without sufferings, are without knowledge; they distinguish neither good nor evil; and are, alike, strangers to mankind, and to themselves." After this efFufion of my heart, I took my bow and arrows in my hand.

" Neoptolemus then requefled, that I would permit hitn to kiss rhc celebrated arms, that had been consecrated by the invincible Alcidcs. " To you, said I, all things are permitted: you, my son, rcHore me to light and life, to my country, my father, my friends, and myfclf: you may touch thcfc armsj and boaft, that you arc the zU BOOK XV.

the only Greek who deserves to touch them." Neoptolemus immediately came into my cell, to admire my arrows* Ai this moment a sudden pang totally suspended my faculties; I no longer knew what I did, but called for a sword, that I might cut off my foot. I cried out for death, and reproached him with delay: " Burn me, said I to Neoptolemus, this moment, as I burnt the son of Jove upon mount Oeta, O earth! receive a dying wretch, who ihall never more rise from thy bosom." I fell immediately to the ground without appearance of life, a (late in which these fits of pain usually left me: a profufe sweat at length relieved me, and a black and corrupted ichor flowed from my wound. While I continued infcnfible, it would have been easy for Neoptolemus to have carried off my arms; but he was the son of Achilles, and his nature was superior to fraud.

When I recovered, I perceived great confusion in his countenance; and he fighed like a man new to diffimulation, and practifmg it with violence to himself: " What, said I, do you meditate? to take advantage of my infirmity? * " You must go with me, said he, to the siege of Troy." " What do I hear! said I; I am betrayed. O my son! give me back the bow; to withold it, is to rob me of life. Alas! he answers me nothing; he looks steadily upon me, without einotion; over his heart I have no power. Ye winding shores! ye promontories, that over-hang the deep! ye broken rocks! ye favage beafls, that prowl these fcenes of desolation! I complain to you; for, beside you, there are none to whom I can complain: to you my groans are familiar. Must I be thus betrayed by the son of;^chilles! He robs me of the bow, which the hand of Hercules has made sacred; he would compel me to the camp of Greece, as a trophy of the war; nor fees, that his victory is not over the living but the dead, a fliade, a phantom, that exists only in idea! P that he had assailed me, when my vigour was unimpaired! but even even now he has talcen me by furprize. What expedient shall I try! Restore what thou hall taken j reflore my arms, O my son! and let thy conduct be worthy of thy father and thyself. What doil thou answer r Thou art inexorably fdent. To thee, thou barren rock, I once more return, naked and miferablc, forlorne and deftitute! hi this cave, I lliall perish alone; for having no weapon to destroy the bcafts, the bcafts will inevitably devour me; and why lliould I dcfire to live! But as to thee, my son, the mark of wickedness is not upon thee; thou art, furcly, the instrument of another's hand! Restore my arms, and leave me to my fate!"

" Neoptolemus was touched with my distress; the tear started to his eye; and he fighed to himfclf, " Would to God that I had flill continued at Scyros!" At this moment I cried out, " What do I see! surely that is Ulysses!" Immediately the voice of Ulysses confirmed it, and he anfwercd, " It is I." If the gloomy dominions of Pluto had been difclofed before me, and I had suddenly beheld the fhades of Tartarus, which the Gods themselves cannot see without dread, I should not have been seized with greater horror. I then cried out again, " I attell thee, O earth of Lemnos! O sun! doll thou behold and suffer this?" Ulysses answered without emotion, " This is ordained by Jupiter, and I but execute his will." " Dareft thou, said I, profane the name of Jove, with unhallowed lips? Hast thou not compelled this youth, to pra(5life a fraud, which his foul abhors?" "We come, replied Ulysses, neither to deceive, nor injure you: we come, to deliver you from solitude and misery, to heal your wound, to give you the glory of fubverting Troy, and restore you in safety to your native country. It is thyself, and not Ulysses, that is the enemy of Philodetes."

" I anfv/cred only by reproaches and infult: " Since thou hast abandoned me upon this inhofpitable coast, fixid I, why hast thou interrupted inteiTupted such rest as it can give? Go, and secure to thyself the glory of battle, and the delights of peace; enjoy the fweets of prosperity with the Atrides, and leave pain and sorrow to me. Why shouldst thou compel me to go with thee > I am funk into nothing; I am dead already. Thou wast once of opinion, that I ought to be left here; that my complaints, and the infection of my wound, would interrupt the sacrifices of the Gods: and why is not this thy opinion now? Thou author of all my misery! may the Gods — ^But the Gods hear me not; they take part with my enemy! O my country! these eyes shall behold thee no more! — O ye Gods! if there is yet one among you, fo just as to compassionate my wrongs, avenge them! punilh Ulysses, and I shall believe that I am whole!"

" While I was thus indulging an impotent rage, your father looked upon me with a calm compafllon, which, instead of refenting the intemperate fallics of a wretch diftracSled by misfortune, makes allowance for his infirmity, and bears with his excess: he stood fdent, and unmoved, in the ftability of his wisdom, till my passion should be exhausted by its own violence; as the fummit of a rock stands unftiaken, while it is beaten by the winds, which, at length, wearied by their idle fuz*y, are heard no more. He knew that all attempts to reduce the paflions to reason, are ineffedlual, till their violence is past; when I paufed, therefore, and not before, he said, " Where are now, O Philoc^etcs I thy reason jind thy courage? This is the moment in which they can most avail thee! If thou shalt refuse to follow us, and to concur with the great designs which Jupiter has formed for thee, farewel; thou ^rt not worthy to atchieve the deliverance of Greece, or the destruction of Troy. Live still an exile in Lemnos: these arms, which I Jiave secured, will obtain a glory for Ulysses, that was dcfigned for for thee. Let us depart, Neoptolcmus! argument is lost upon him; and compassion for an individual, should not make us give up the common interest of Greece."

" This threw me into a new tranfpoit of rage; and I was like a lionefs, when she is robbed of her young, and makes the woods echo with her roar. *' O cave! said I, thou shalt not henceforth be forsaken; I will enter thee as my grave for ever: receive mc, O manfion of sorrow! receive me to famine and despair! O for a sword, that I might die at once! O that the birds of prey would devour me! my arrows shall pierce them no more. O ineftimable bow, consecrated by the hand of the son of Jove! O Hercules! if thou art still conscious to what palTes upon earth, does not thy breast burn with indignation? This bow is no longer in the poffellion of thy friend, but in the profane and faithlefs hands of Ulysses? Come, without fear, ye birds of prey, and ye beasts of the defart, to your ancient dwelling! there are now no fatal arrows in my hand: wretch that I am! I can wound you no more: come then, and devour me. Or rather, inexorable Jove! let thy thunders crufli mc to nothing."

" Your father, having tried every other art of perfuafion in vain, thought it best to return me my arms; he, therefore, made a sign to Neoptolcmus for that purpose, who instantly put the arrows and the bow into my hand. " Thou art, indeed, said I, the son of Achilles, and worthy of his blood! but stand aside, that I may pierce my enemy to the heart." I then drew an arrow against your father, but Neoptolcmus held my hand: " Your anger, says he, diftracls you; you are not conscious of the enormity you would commit."

But Ulyssks flood, equally unmoved, against danger and reproach; and his patience and intrepidity struck me with reverence and admiration: I was ashamed of the tranfport, which hurried me

P p to

290; F O O K XV.

to Hie, for his deftru^lion, the arms that he had rcflorcd: irty refentment, however, was not yet wholly appealed; and I 'was grieved, beyond comfort, to have received my weapons from ^ man, wlioni I could not love. But my attention was now engaged by Neoptolemus: " Know, said he, that the divine Hele-. nus, the son of Priam, came to us from the city, impelled by the command and inspiration of the Gods, and difclofed to us the secrets of futurity: " Unhappy Troy, said he, must fall j but not till he, who bears the fliafts 01^ Hercules, shall come against her. Under the walls of Troy only, he can be cured: the sons of ^fculapius shall give him health."

" At this moment, I felt my heart divided: I was touched with the ingenuous simplicity of Neoptolemus, and the honefty with which he had restored my bow; but I could not bear the thought of fubmitting to Ulysses, and a false shame held me some time in fufpenfe. " Will not the world, said I, despise me, if I become* at lad, the aflbciate of Ulysses and the Atrides?"

" While I flood thus torpid in fufpenfe, I was suddenly roufed by a voice that was more than human; and looking up, I saw Hercules: he descended in a fliining cloud, and was surrounded with rays of glory. He was eafdy distinguished, by his llrong features, his robuft form, and the graceful simplicity of his ge[turc; but, in his present appearance, there was a loftinefs and dignity, not equally conspicuous, when he was destroying monfters upon earth. " Thou hearefl, said he, and thou beholdeft Hercules. I am descended from Olympus, to acquaint thee with the commands of Jove. Thou knowefl;, by what labours I acquired immortality; and if thou wouldst follow me in the path of glory, the son of Achilles must be now thy guide. Thy wound shall be healed; Paris, who has filled the world with calamity, shall fall

. by Z by my arrows froni thy hand. When Tix)y shall be taken, thou rftialt fcmlcoilly fjx)iU to I^a;as, thy father, upon mount Oeta > and he shall place thein-upon my tomb, as a monument of the vidory which my arix>ws obtained. Thou canst not, O son of AGhilles! conqu-er, witliotitPhilo<5tctes; nor can Philodetes conquer, without thee: go then, like two hons, who, chace tbeir prey together. Thou, Philodetes, fliak be healed by the skill of iEfculapius at Troy. But, above all things, keep alive in your hearts the love and reverence of the Gods: all other paflions and pleasures shall perilh with their abje(5ls; these only rfre immor'tal and divine."

" At these words I cried out, in a tranfport of joy, " The night is past; the dawn breaks upon me! O cheering light! after these years of darkness, art thou again returned? I feel thy influence, and I follow thy guiding ray. I quit these fcenes, and flay only to bid them farewel. Farewel, my grotto! Ye nymphs that haunt these dewy fields, farewel! I shall hear the fullen found of these inexorable waves, no more. Farewel, ye cliffs, where I have fhivered in the tcmpefl, and been drenched in the rain! Farewel ye rocks, whose echoes have fo often repeated my complaints! Farewel, ye sweet fountains, which my sufferings embittered to me! and thou uncultivated soil, farewel! I leave you; but to my departure be propitioiis^ since I follow the voice of friendship and the Gods!"

" We then fct fail from the coafl, and arrived in the Grecian army before the walls of Troy. Machaon and Podalirius, by the sacred science of their father iEfculapius, healed my wound; at leafl, reflored me to the flate you see. I am free from pain, and 1 have recovered my flrength; but I am flill somewhat lame. I brought Paris to the ground, like a timid fawn that is pierced by

^ P 2 the

XV.

the arrows of the huntfman; and the towers of Ilium were soon in ashes. All that followed, you know already. But the remembrance of my fuiFerings, notwithstanding the success and glory that followed, still left upon my mind an aversion to Ulysses, which all his virtues could not furmount: but, loving irrefiftibly his resemblance in a son, my enmity to the father infenfibly relents."

The END of the FIFTEENTH BOOK.

^rwM.

c.G,fi.

'. Oruftmanj.'-

XVI.

WHILE Philo(5letes was thus relating his adventures, Tele- MACHus flood suspended and immoveable: his eyes were fixed upon the hero that spoke j and all the pallions which had agitated Hercules, Philo(5letes, Ulysses, and Neoptolemus, appeared by turns in his countenance, as they were fucceflively described in the series of the narration. Sometimes he interrupted Philoctetes, by a sudden and involuntary exclamation; and sometimes he appeared to be absorbed in thought, like a man who reasons deeply from causes to efFedts. "When Philodetes described the confusion of Neoptolemus, in his first attempt at diffimulation, the fame confusion appeared in Telemachus, and he might, in that moment, have been taken for Neoptolemus himself.

The allied army marched, in good order, against Adraftus, the tyrant of Daunia; a contemner of the Gods, and a deceiver of

4 men.

men. Telemachus found it very difficult to behave, vvitliout offence, among fo many princes, who were jealous of each other: it was neceflary, that he lliould give cause of suspicion to none -, ■and jhat he should conciliate the good will of all. There was great goodness and sincerity in his difpofuion, but he was not naturally obliging; and gave himself little trouble to please others: he was not fond of money, yet he knew not how to give it away: and thus, with an elevated mind, and a general disposition to good, he appeared to be neither kind nor liberal; to be neither sensible of friendlhip, nor grateful for favours, nor attentive to merit. He indulged his humour, without the least regard to the opinion of others; for his mother, Penelope, notwithstanding the care of Mentor, had encouraged a pride of biith and lofty demeanour, which cail a fliadc over all his good qualities: he considered himself, as participating a nature fuperiour to the rest of men, whom, he seemed to think, the Gods had placed upon the.earth, merely for his pleasure and convenience, to prevent his wishes, and refer all to him as a visible divinity. To serve him, was, in his opinion, a happiness, that fufficiendy recompenfed the service: nothing that he required, was to be' supposed impossible; .and, at the least delay, the impetuous ardour of his temper burst into a flame. Those, who flioidd have seen him thus, unguarded and unreftrained, would have concluded him incapable of loving any thing but himself, and sensible only to the gratification of his.own appetites and vanity: but this indifference for others, and perpetual attention to himself, was merely the efFedt of the continual agitation, that he suffered from the violence of his passions. He had been flattered and humoured, by his mother from the cradle; and was a striking example of the d:fadvantages of high birth. Misfortime had not yet abated either his haughtinefs or impetuofity; in every state of dereliction and distress, he had still looked looked round him with difdain; and his pride, hkc die palm, {li!l rose under every deprefllon.

While he was with Mentoji, his faults were, fcarce visible; and they became, infenfibly, Icfs and less every day. Like a fiery fteed, that, in his course, difdains the rock, the precipice, and the torrent and is obedient only to one commanding voice, and one guiding hand; Telemachus, impelled by a noble ardour, could be rc- Itrained only by Mentor. But Mentor could arreft him with a look, in the midst of his career: he knew, he felt, the meaning of his eye, the moment that it glanced upon him; his heart became fenfiblc to virtue, and his countenance foftened into fcrenity and complacence: the rebellious tempeft is not more suddenly rebuked into peace, when Neptune lists his trident, and frowns upon the deep.

When Telemachus was left to himself, all his paflions, which had been retrained like the course of a torrent by a mound, buril away with yet greater violence. He could not fufTcr the arrogance of the Lacedemonians, nor of Phalanthus their commander. This colony, which had founded Tarentum, consisted of young men, who, having been born during the siege of Troy, had received no education; their illegitimate birth, the diflblutcnefs of their mothers, and the licentioufnefs in which they had been brought up, gave them an air of favagc barbarity: they refcmblcd rather a band of robbers, than a Grecian colony.

Phalanthus took every opportunity to slew his contempt of Telemachus: he frequently interrupted him in their public councils, and treated his advice as the crude notions of puerile inexperience: he also frequently made him the fubje(5l of his raillery, as a feeble and effeminate youth: he pointed out his slightest failings ings to the chiefs; and was perpetually bufy, in fomenting jealoufies, and rendering the haughty manner of Telemachus odious to the allies.

TELEAfACHUs having one day taken some Daunians prifoners, Phalanthus pretended, that they belonged to him, because, as he said, he had defeated the party at the head of his Lacedemonians; and Telemachus, finding them already vanquifhed and put to flight, had nothing to do, but to give quarter to those that threw down their arms, and lead them to the camp: Telemachus, on the contrary, infilled, that he had prevented Phalanthus from being defeated by that very party, and had turned the scale in his favour. This question was disputed before an aflembly of all the princes of the alliance; and Telemachus, being fo far provoked as to threaten Phalanthus, they would immediately have fought, if the afFcmbly had not interpofed.

Phalanthus had a brother, whose name was Hippias, and who was much celebrated for his courage, fl;rength, and dexterity: " Pollux, said the Tarentines, could not wield the ceftus better; nor could Caftor furpafs him in the management of a horse." He had almoll the ftaturc, and the lire ngth of Hercules; and he was the terror of the whole army, for he was yet more petulant and briual than courageous and llrong.

Hippias, having remarked the haughtinefs with which Telemachus had menaced his brother, went, in great haile, to carry off the prifoners to Tarentum, without waiting for the determination of the alTembly; and Telemachus, who was privately informed of it, ruflied out after him, burning with rage. He ran eagerly from one part of the camp to the other, like a boar, who, being wounded in the chuce, turns enraged upon the hunter. His eye looked round round for his enemy; and his hand flicok the fnccir, which he was impatient to lancli against him. He found him at length; and, at the fight of him, he was tranfported with new fury.

He was no longer Teltmachus, a noble youth, whose mind Minerva, under the form of Mentor, had enriched with wisdom; but an enraged Ron, or a lunatic urged on by defpcrate frenzy. " Stay, said he to Hippias; thou bafell of mankind! stay; and let us see, if thou canil wreft, from me, the spoils of thofc whom I have overcome. Thou shalt not carry them toTarentum. Thou shalt, this moment, descend to the gloomy borders of the Styx!" His fpear inflantJy followed his words; but he threw it with fo much fury, th.at he could take no aim, and it fell, wide of Hippias, to the ground. He then drew his sword, of which the guard was gold; and v/hich had been given him by Laertes, when he departed from hhaca, as a pledge of his affedlion. Laertes had used it with glory, when he himself was young; and it had been ftained with the blood of many chiefs of Epirus, during a war, in which Laertes had been vicftorious.

This sword was scarcely drawn by Telemachus, when Hippias, willing to avail himself of his fuperiour flrength, ruflied upoa him, and endeavoured to force it from his hand: the weapon broke in the conteft. They then seized each other, and were in a moment locked together: they appeared like two favage beafls, striving to tear each other in pieces: fire fparkled in their eyes: their bodies are now contracted, and now extended; they now ftoop, and now rise; they spring furioufly upon each other, and pant with the thirst of blood. Thus they engaged, foot to foot, and hand to hand; and their limbs were fo entwined with each other, that they seemed to belong to one body. The advantage, at last, inclined to Hippias; to whom, a full maturity of years had

Q^q given given firmness and (Irength, which, to the tender age of Telega- CHus, was wanting. His breath now failed him, and his knees trembled: Hippias perceived his weakness; and, doubling his efforts, the fate of Telemachus would now have been decided, and he would have suffered the punishment due to his passion and temerity, if Minerva, who still watched over him from afar, and suffered him to fall into this extremity of danger only for his inflrucflion, had not determined the victory in his favour.

She did not herself quit the palace of Salentum; but sent Iris, the fwift mcllenger of the Gods, who, spreading her light wings to the air, divided the pure and unbounded space above, having behind her a long train of light, which diverfified the iilver clouds with a thousand dies. She descended not to the earth, till she came to the sea shore, where the innumerable army of the allies was encamped. She saw the conteft at a distance, and marked the violence and fury of the combatants; she perceived the danger of Telemachus, and trembled with apprehension; she approached in a thin vapour, which she had condenfed into a cloud; and, at the moment, when Hippias, conscious of his fuperiour flrength, believed his victory to be secure, she covered the young charge of MiNEKVA with the fliield of the Goddefs, which, for this purpose, had been confided to her care. Telemachus, who was exhaufled and fainting, inflantly became sensible of new vigour; and, in proportion as he revived, the strength and courage of Hippias declined j he was conscious to something invisible and divine, which overwhelmed and confounded him. Telemachus now prefTed him -closer; and assailed him sometimes in one poflure, and Ibmetimes in another: he perceived him flagger; and, leaving him not a moment's rcfpitc to rccovex', he at length threw him down, and fell upon 'him. An oak of mount Ida, which, at last, yields to a thousand flrokes, that have made the depths of the forcil refound; 3 falls falls not with a more dreadful noise, than Hippias: the earth groaned beneath him, and all that was around him fhook.

But the iEgis of Minerva infused, into Telemachus, wisdom, as well as strength j and, at the moment that Hippias fell under him, he was touched with a sense of the fault he had committed, by attacking the brother of one of the confederate princes, whom he had taken arms to assist. He recolle(5ted the counsels of Mentor, and they covered him with confusion; he was ashamed of his vi(5lory, and conscious that he ought to have been vanquifhed. hi the mean time, Phalanthus, tranfportcd with rage, ran to the fuccour of his brother; and would have pierced Telemachus with the fpear that he carried in his hand, if he had not feared to pierce Hippias also, whom Telemachus held under him in the dust. The son of Ulysses might then eafdy have taken the life of his enemy: but his anger was appeafed; and he thought only of atoning for his raflinefs, by Jhewing his moderation. Getting up, therefore, from his antagonift, he said, " I am satisfied, O Hippias! with having taught thee, not to defpilc my youth. I give thee life; and I admire thy valour and thy flrength. The Gods have protected me: yield, therefore, to the power of the Gods. Henceforth, let us think, only, of uniting our strength against the common enemy."

"While Telemachus was speaking, Hippias rose from the ground, covered with dust and blood, and burning with shame and indignation. Phalanthus did not dare to take the life of him, who had fo generously given life to his brother; yet he was confused, and fcarce knew what he would do. All the princes of the alliance ran to the place, and carried off Telemachus on one fide, and on the other Phalanthus with Hippias, who, having lost all his aripgance, kept his eyes fixed upon the ground. The whole army

CLq 2 was was flruck with astonishment, to find that Telemachus, a youth of fo tender an age, who had not yet acquired the full strength of a man, had been able to prevail againfl Hippias; who, in flrength and ilature, refembled the giants, those children of the earth, who once attempted to difpoITefs the Gods of Olympus.

Telemachus, however, was far from enjoying his vidlory; and, while the camp was refounding with his praifc, he retired to his tent, overwhelmed with the sense of his fault, and wilhing to escape from himself. He bewailed the impetuofity of his temper,and abhorred himself for the injurious extravagancies, which his passions hurried him to commit: he was conscious to something of vanity and meannefs, in his unbounded pride; and he felt, that true greatndfs consists in moderation, justice, modefly, and Inmianity. He saw his defects; but he did not dare to hope, that, after being fo often betrayed into the fame faults, he should be ever able to correcft them. He was at war with himself; and, in the anguish of the conflict, his complaints were like the roaring of a lion.

Two days he remained alone in his tent, tormented by fclfreproach, and ashamed to return back to society: " How can I, said he, again dare to look Mentor in the face! Am I the son of Ulysses, the wifell and most patient of men; and have I filled the camp of the allies, with dilFenfion and diforclcr? Is it their bloody or that of their enemies, the Daunians, that I ought to fpill? I have "been rafh even to madnefs, fo that I knew not even how to lanch a fpcar; I exposed myself to danger and difgrace, by engaging Hippias with inferiour fi;reng'th; and had reason to cxpedl nothing lei's than death, with the dilhonour of being vanquifhed. And what if I had thus died? My faults would have periflied with me; and the turbulent pride, the thoughtlefs presumption of Telemachus, en us, would no longer have difgraced the name of Ulysses, or the counsels of Mentok. O that I could but hope, never more to do, what now, with unutterable anguiih, I repent having done! I should then, indeed, be happy: but alas! before the sun that is now risen shall dcfccnd, I shall, with the full confcnt of my will, repeat the very liime faults, that I now regret with shame and horror. O fatal vidlory! O mortifying praise! at once the memorial and reproach of my folly!"

While he was thus alone and inconfolable, he was villted by Neftor and Philocftetes. Neftor had intended to convince him of his fault; but instantly perceiving his distress and contrition, he changed his remonftrances into consolation; and, inflead of reproving his mifcondudl, endeavoured to footh his despair.

This quarrel retarded the confederates in their expedition; for they could not march against their enemies, till they had reconr ciled Telemachus to Phalanthus and his brother. They were in continual dread, left the Tarentines should fall upon the company of young Cretans, who had followed Telemachus to the war; Everything was thi'own into confusion, merely by the folly of Telemachus; and Telemachus, whofaw how much mischief he had caused already, and how much more might follow from his indifcretion, gave himself up to remorse and sorrow. The princeswere extremely embarraflcd: they did not dare to put the army in motion, left the Tarentines and Cretans should fall upon each otherin their march; for it was, with great difficulty, that they were restrained even in the camp, where a ftridl watch was kept over them. Neftor and Philoftetes were continually pafling, and rcpafPing, between the tents of Telemachus and Phalanthus. Phalanthus was implacable; he had an obdurate ferocity in his nature; and. being perpetually ftimulatcd to revenge by Hippias, whose difcourfecourfe was full of rage and indignation, he was neither moved by the eloquence of Neftor, nor the authority of Philo6letes: Tele- MACHus was more gentle; but he was overwhelmed with grief, and refused all consolation.

While the princes were in this perplexity, the troops were flruck with confternation; and the camp appeared like a house, in which the father of the family, the support of his relations, and the hope of his children, is just dead.

In the midst of this distress and disorder, the army was suddenly alarmed by a confused and dreadful i:joife, the rattling of chariots, the clafh of arms, the neighing of horfcs, and the cries of men; some vidorious, and urging the slaughter; some flying and terrified; some wounded and dying. The dull rose, as in a whirlwind; and formed a cloud that obfcured the sky, and furroundcd the camp: in a few moments, this dull was mixed with a thick fmoke, which polluted the air, and prevented refpiration: soon after was heard a hollow noise, like the roaring of mount iEtna, when her fires are urged by Vulcan and the Cyclops, who forge thunder for the Father of the Gods: every knee trembled, and ' every countenance was pale.

Adraflus, vigilant and indefatigable, had furprizcd the allies in their camp. He had concealed his own march; and, perfcdlly acquainted with theirs, he had, with incredible expedition and labour, marched round a mountain of very difficult access, the pafTes of which had been secured by the allies. Not dreaming that he would march round it, and knowing that the defiles, by avhich alone it could be palled, were in their hands; they not only imagined themselves to be in perfeiSt security, but had formed a design to march through these defiles, and fall upon their enemy behind behind the mountain, when some auxiliaries, which they expedcd, ihould conae up.

Of this design, Adraflus, who spared no money to difcovcr the secret of an enemy, had gained intelligence; for Ncflor and Philo6letes, notwithstanding their wisdom and experience, were not sufficiently careful to conceal their undertakings. Neftor, who was in a declining age, took too much pleasure, in telling what he thought would procure him applaufe: Philo6tetes was naturally less talkative; but he was hafty; and the flightefl provocation would betray him, into the discovery of what he had determined to conceal; artful people, therefore, soon found the way to unlock his breast, and get pofTcfTion of whatever it contained: nothing more was neceflary, than to make him angry; he would then lose all command of himself, express his refcntment by menaces, and boaft that he had certain means to accomplhh his purposes: if this was ever fo slightly doubted, he would immediately difclofe his proje<5t, and give up the dearest secret of his heart. Thus did this great commander refemble a cracked velfcl, which, however precious its materials, suffers the liquors that are entrusted with it to drain away.

Those who had been corrupted by the money of Adraflus, did not fail to take advantage of the weakness, both of Neftor and PhilocStetes. They flattered Neftor with exceflive and perpetual praise j they related the vidories he had won, and expatiated upoft his foresight, in extafies of admiration. On the other lide, they were continually laying fnares for the impatience of Philo(5letes; they talked to him of nothing but difficulties, crosses, dangers, inconveniencies, and irremediable miftakes; and the moment his natural impetuofity was moved, his wisdom forfook him, and h/* was no longer the fame man.

' Tele-

Telemachus, notwithstanding his faults, was much better qualified to keep a secret: he had acquired a habit of fecrecy by his misfortunes, and the ncceflity he had been under of concealing his thoughts from the fuitors of Penelope, even in his infancy. He had the art of keeping a secret without falsehood, and even without appearing to have a secret to keep, by that reserved and mysterious air which generally distinguishes close people. A secret did not appear to lay him under the least difficulty or reflraint: he seemed to be always unconftrained, easy, and open, as if his heart was upon his lips: he said all that might be said fafely, with the utmost freedom and unconcern; but he knew, with the utmofl: preciiion, where to flop, and could, without the leall appearance of design, avoid whatever glanced, however obliquely, at that which he would conceal. His heart, therefore, was wholly inaccessible, and his bed friends knew only what he thought was necclTary to enable them to give him advice, except only Mentor, from whom he concealed nothing. In other friends, he placed different degrees of confidence, in proportion as he had experienced their fidelity and wisdom.

Telemachus had often obfervcd, that tile resolutions of the council were too generally known in the camp; and had complained of it to Neftor and Philo6tetes, who did not treat it with the attention it deserved. Old men are too often inflexible, for long habit fcarce leaves them the power of choice. The faults of age are hopelefs: as the trunk of an old knotty tree, if it is crooked, must be crooked for ever; fo men, after a certain age, lose their pliancy, and become fixed in habits, which have grown old with them, and become as it were part of their constitution. They are sometimes sensible of these habits; but, at the fame time, are also sensible that they cannot be broken, and figh over their infirmity in vain: youth is the

B^ O O K XVr. 305 the only season, in which human nature can be corre(5led; and, in youth, the power of corre<ition is without limits.

There was, in the aUied army, a Delopian, whose name was Eurymachus; an infmuating fycophant, who paid his court to all the princes, and could accommodate himfclf to every one's taste and inclination! His invention and diligence were continually upon the flretch, to render himself agreeable. If Eurymachus might be believed, nothing was difficult: if his advice was asked, he guelTed immediately what answer would be most pleafmg, and gave it. He had a talent at humour, which he indulged, in raillery, against those from whom he had nothing to fear; but, to others, he was refpe6tful and complaifant; and had the art of rendering flattery fo delicate, that the most modest received it without difguft. He was grave with the fober, and with the jovial he* was gay: he could afTume all chara6lers, however different, with equal facility: men of fmcerity, appear always in their own; and their condudl, being regulated by the unalterable laws of virtue, is -fteady and uniform; they are, therefore, much less agreeable to princes, than those who affiniilate themselves to their predominant paflions. Eurymachus had considerable military skill, and was very able in business: he was a soldier of fortune, who having attached himself to Neftor, had intirely gained his confidence; and could, by flattering that vanity and fondnefs for praiie which a little fullied the luftre of his charadter, di-aw out of him whatever he wanted to know.

Philovflctes, though he never trusted him, was not Icfs in his power; for, in him, irafcibility and impatience produced the fame effed:, that an ill placed confidence produced in Neftor. Eurymachus had nothing to do, but to confradi<5t him; for, when once lie was provoked^ all his secrets were discovered. This- man -had

11 r been been bribed, with large sums of money, to betray the councils of the allies to Adraflus; who had, in his army, a certain number of chosen men, who went over to the allies as deferters, and came back, one by one, with intelligence from Eurymachus, as often a^s he had any thing of importance to communicate: this treachery was practised, without much danger of dctedion; for these meffengers carried no letters, and, therefore, if they happened to be seized, nothing was found upon them, that could render Eurymachus fufpctfted. Every projecSt of the allies, therefore, was conllantly defeated by Adraftus; for an enterprize was scarcely resolved upon in council, before the Daunians made the very dispositions, which alone could prevent its success. Telemachus was indefati-^ gable to discover the cause; and endeavoured to put Neflor and Philodctes upon their guard, by alarming their suspicion; but his care was incfTedual, and their blindness defperate.

It had been resolved, in council, to wait for a considerable reinforcement that was expected; and a hundred veflels were difpatched secretly by night, to convey these troops from that part of the coast, whither they had been ordered to repair, to the place where the army was encamped, with greater fpeed and facility; the ground, over which they would otherwise have been obliged to march, being in some places very difficult to pass. In the mean time, they thought themselves in perfcvfl security, having taken pcfleirion of the pafles of the neighbouring mountain, which was a part of the Appenine mod difficult of access. The camp was upon the banks of the river Galcfus, not far from the sea, in a delightful country, aboimding with forage and whatever else was necelTary for the fubfiftance of an army. Adraftus was on the other fide of the mountain, which it was thought impossible for him to pass; but as he knew the allies to be then weak, that a large reinforcement was cxpecflcd to join them, that velTels were waiting to receive them on

•on board, and, that difTcntlon and animofity had been produced in the army by the quarrel between Telemachus and Phalanthus, he undertook to march round without delay. He proceeded with the utmost expedition, advancing, night and day, along the borders of the fca, through ways which had always been thought impaflable: thus, courage and labovu' fiumount all obilacles-; and, to those who can dare and fuflcr, nothing is impoiRble: and those, who, numbering in idlcnefs and timidity, dream that e'ery thing is impoirible that appears to be difncidt, deserve to be furprifcd and fubdued.

Adraftus fell, unexpe61:edly, upon the hundred vefTels of the allies, at break of day. As they were not prepared for defence, and those on board had not the leafl suspicion of an attack, they •were seized without refinance, and served to tranfport his troops, with the greatest expedition, to the mouth of the Galefus: he then proceeded, without delay, up the river. The advanced guanl of the allies on that fide, believing that thefc vefTels brought the reinforcement they expecfted, received them with ihoius of joy; and Adraftus and his men got on shore, before they discovered their mistake. He fell upon them, when they had no fulpicion of danger; and he found the camp open, \vithout order, without chief, and without arras.

The quarter of the camp which he full attacked, was that of the Tarentines commanded by Phalanthus. The Daunians entered fo suddenly, and with fo much vigour, that the furprize of the Lacedemonians rendered them incapable of resistance; and while they were seeking their arms, with a confusion that made them embarrafs and impede each other, Adradus ser fire to the camp. The flames immediately rose from the tents to t!ie Iky: and the noise of the fire was like that of a torrent, which rolls over a-

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3oS BOOK XVI.

whole country, bearing,c!ovm trees of tbc decpcft root, and fwccping away the trcafurcd harvest with the barn, and ilocks and herds with the fold and the flail. The flames were driven, by the wind, from tent to tent; and the whole camp had soon the appearance of an ancient forell, which fomc accidental fpark had set on fire.

rhalanthus, though he was nearefl to the danger, could apply no remedy. He saw that all his troops mud pcrifa in the conflagration, if they did not immediately abandon the camp; yet he was fenfiblc, that a sudden retreat before a vidcorious enemy, might produce a final and a fatal disorder. He began, however, to draw up his Lacedemonian youth, before they were half armed: but Adradus gave him no time to breathe; a band of expert archers killed many of them on one fide, and a company of Ilingers threw flones as thick as hail on the other. AdrafHis himself, sword in hand, at the head of a chosen number of Daunians, perfued the fugitives by the light of the flames, and put all that escaped the fire to the sword. Blood flowed round him, in a deluge; yet he was fliil infatiable of blood: his fur.y exceeded that of lions and. tigers, when they tear in pieces the flicpherd with the flock. The troops of Phalanihus flood torpid in despair: death appeared before them like a fpecflre led by an infernal fury, and their blood froze in their veins; their limbs would no longer obey their will, and their trembling knees deprived them even of the hope of flight.

Phalantlius, whose faculties were in some degree rouzed by shame and delpair, lifted up his hands and eyes to Heaven; he saw his brother Hippias fall at his feet, under the hand of Adraftus. He was flretched upon the earth, and rolled in the dust; the blood gullied from a deep wound in his flde, like a river; his eyes closed againll the light; and his foul, furious and indignant, ifl!ued with the

XVI.

the torrent of his blood. Phalanthiis liimfcif, covered with the vital effufion from his brother's wound, and unable to aftbrd him fuccour, was inflantly surrounded by a crowd of enemies, Who prcfTed him with all their power; his fliield was pierced by a thousand arrows, and he was wounded in many parts of his body; his troops fled, without a possibility of being brought back to the charge j. and the Gods looked down upon his sufferings, without pity.

The E N D of the SIXTEENTH BOOK,.

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