To Troy no hero came of nobler line,

Or if of nobler, Memnon, it was thine.


“When Ilion in the horse received her doom,

And unseen armies ambush’d in its womb,

Greece gave her latent warriors to my care,

’Twas mine on Troy to pour the imprison’d war:

Then when the boldest bosom beat with fear,

When the stern eyes of heroes dropp’d a tear,

Fierce in his look his ardent valour glow’d,

Flush’d in his cheek, or sallied in his blood;

Indignant in the dark recess he stands,

Pants for the battle, and the war demands:

His voice breathed death, and with a martial air

He grasp’d his sword, and shook his glittering spear.

And when the gods our arms with conquest crown’d,

When Troy’s proud bulwarks smoked upon the ground,

Greece, to reward her soldier’s gallant toils,

Heap’d high his navy with unnumber’d spoils.


“Thus great in glory, from the din of war

Safe he return’d, without one hostile scar;

Though spears in iron tempests rain’d around,

Yet innocent they play’d, and guiltless of a wound.’


“While yet I spoke, the shade with transport glow’d,

Rose in his majesty, and nobler trod;

With haughty stalk he sought the distant glades

Of warrior kings, and join’d the illustrious shades.


“Now without number ghost by ghost arose,

All wailing with unutterable woes.

Alone, apart, in discontented mood,

A gloomy shade the sullen Ajax stood;

For ever sad, with proud disdain he pined,

And the lost arms for ever stung his mind;

Though to the contest Thetis gave the laws,

And Pallas, by the Trojans, judged the cause.

O why was I victorious in the strife?

O dear bought honour with so brave a life!

With him the strength of war, the soldier’s pride,

Our second hope to great Achilles, died!

Touch’d at the sight from tears I scarce refrain,

And tender sorrow thrills in every vein;

Pensive and sad I stand, at length accost

With accents mild the inexorable ghost:

‘Still burns thy rage? and can brave souls resent