"Each warlike Greek the moving music hears, / And iron-hearted Heroes melt in tears"
— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744), Broome, W. and Fenton, E.
Place of Publication
London
Date
1725-6
Metaphor
"Each warlike Greek the moving music hears, / And iron-hearted Heroes melt in tears"
Metaphor in Context
O son of Peleus! greater than mankind!
(Thus Agamemnon's kingly shade rejoin'd)
Thrice happy thou! to press the martial plain
Midst heaps of heroes in thy quarrel slain:
In clouds of smoke, rais'd by the noble fray,
Great, and terrific ev'n in death you lay,[1]
And deluges of blood flow'd round you ev'ry way.
Nor ceas'd the strife, 'till Jove himself oppos'd,
And all in tempests the dire evening clos'd.
Then to the fleet we bore thy honour'd load,
And decent on the fun'ral bed bestow'd.
Then unguents sweet and tepid streams we shed;
Tears flow'd from ev'ry eye, and o'er the dead
Each clipt the curling honours of his head.
Struck at the news, thy azure mother came;
The sea-green sisters waited on the dame.
A voice of loud lament thro' all the main
Was heard, and terror seiz'd the Grecian train:[2]
Back to their ships the frighted host had fled;
But Nestor spoke, they listen'd, and obey'd.
(From old experience Nestor's counsel springs,
And long vicissitudes of human things)
"Forbear your flight: Fair Thetis from the main
"To mourn Achilles leads her azure train.
Around thee stand the daughters of the deep,
Robe thee in heav'nly vests, and round thee weep,
Round thee, the Muses, with alternate strain,[3]
In ever-consecrating verse, complain.
Each warlike Greek the moving music hears,
And iron-hearted Heroes melt in tears.
'Till sev'nteen nights and sev'nteen days return'd,
All that was mortal or immortal mourn'd.
To flames we gave thee, the succeeding day,
And fatted sheep and sable oxen slay;
With oils and honey blaze th' augmented fires,
And like a God adorn'd, thy earthly part expires.
Unnumber'd warriors round the burning pyle
Urge the fleet courser's or the racer's toil;
Thick clouds of dust o'er all the circle rise,
And the mixt clamour thunders in the skies.
Soon as absorpt in all-embracing flame
Sunk what was mortal of thy mighty name.
We then collect thy snowy bones, and place
With wines and unguents in a golden vase.
(The vase to Thetis Bacchus gave of old,
And Vulcan's art enrich'd the sculptur'd gold)
There we thy relicks, great Achilles! blend[4]
With dear Patroclus, thy departed friend:
In the same urn a sep'rate space contains
Thy next belov'd, Antilochus' remains.
Now all the sons of warlike Greece surround
Thy destin'd tomb, and cast a mighty mound:
High on the shore the growing hill we raise,
That wide th' extended Hellespont surveys;
Where all, from age to age who pass the coast,
May point Achilles' tomb, and hail the mighty ghost.
Thetis her self to all our peers proclaims
Heroic prizes and exequial games;
The Gods assented; and around thee lay
Rich spoils and gifts that blaz'd against the day.
Oft have I seen with solemn fun'ral games
Heroes and Kings committed to the flames;
But strength of youth, or valour of the brave
With nobler contest ne'er renown'd a grave.
Such were the games by azure Thetis given,
And such thy honours, oh belov'd of heaven!
Dear to mankind thy fame survives, nor fades
Its bloom eternal in the Stygian shades.
But what to me avail my honours gone,
Successful toils, and battles bravely won?
Doom'd by stern Jove, at home to end my life,
By curst Ægysthus, and a faithless wife!
(Thus Agamemnon's kingly shade rejoin'd)
Thrice happy thou! to press the martial plain
Midst heaps of heroes in thy quarrel slain:
In clouds of smoke, rais'd by the noble fray,
Great, and terrific ev'n in death you lay,[1]
And deluges of blood flow'd round you ev'ry way.
Nor ceas'd the strife, 'till Jove himself oppos'd,
And all in tempests the dire evening clos'd.
Then to the fleet we bore thy honour'd load,
And decent on the fun'ral bed bestow'd.
Then unguents sweet and tepid streams we shed;
Tears flow'd from ev'ry eye, and o'er the dead
Each clipt the curling honours of his head.
Struck at the news, thy azure mother came;
The sea-green sisters waited on the dame.
A voice of loud lament thro' all the main
Was heard, and terror seiz'd the Grecian train:[2]
Back to their ships the frighted host had fled;
But Nestor spoke, they listen'd, and obey'd.
(From old experience Nestor's counsel springs,
And long vicissitudes of human things)
"Forbear your flight: Fair Thetis from the main
"To mourn Achilles leads her azure train.
Around thee stand the daughters of the deep,
Robe thee in heav'nly vests, and round thee weep,
Round thee, the Muses, with alternate strain,[3]
In ever-consecrating verse, complain.
Each warlike Greek the moving music hears,
And iron-hearted Heroes melt in tears.
'Till sev'nteen nights and sev'nteen days return'd,
All that was mortal or immortal mourn'd.
To flames we gave thee, the succeeding day,
And fatted sheep and sable oxen slay;
With oils and honey blaze th' augmented fires,
And like a God adorn'd, thy earthly part expires.
Unnumber'd warriors round the burning pyle
Urge the fleet courser's or the racer's toil;
Thick clouds of dust o'er all the circle rise,
And the mixt clamour thunders in the skies.
Soon as absorpt in all-embracing flame
Sunk what was mortal of thy mighty name.
We then collect thy snowy bones, and place
With wines and unguents in a golden vase.
(The vase to Thetis Bacchus gave of old,
And Vulcan's art enrich'd the sculptur'd gold)
There we thy relicks, great Achilles! blend[4]
With dear Patroclus, thy departed friend:
In the same urn a sep'rate space contains
Thy next belov'd, Antilochus' remains.
Now all the sons of warlike Greece surround
Thy destin'd tomb, and cast a mighty mound:
High on the shore the growing hill we raise,
That wide th' extended Hellespont surveys;
Where all, from age to age who pass the coast,
May point Achilles' tomb, and hail the mighty ghost.
Thetis her self to all our peers proclaims
Heroic prizes and exequial games;
The Gods assented; and around thee lay
Rich spoils and gifts that blaz'd against the day.
Oft have I seen with solemn fun'ral games
Heroes and Kings committed to the flames;
But strength of youth, or valour of the brave
With nobler contest ne'er renown'd a grave.
Such were the games by azure Thetis given,
And such thy honours, oh belov'd of heaven!
Dear to mankind thy fame survives, nor fades
Its bloom eternal in the Stygian shades.
But what to me avail my honours gone,
Successful toils, and battles bravely won?
Doom'd by stern Jove, at home to end my life,
By curst Ægysthus, and a faithless wife!
Categories
Provenance
Searching "heart" and "iron" in HDIS (Poetry
Citation
Over 30 entries in ESTC (1725, 1726, 1745, 1752, 1753, 1758, 1760, 1761, 1763, 1766, 1767, 1769, 1770, 1771, 1773, 1778, 1790, 1792, 1795, 1796).
The Odyssey of Homer. Translated from the Greek, 5 vols. (London: Printed for Bernard Lintot, 1725-26).
The Odyssey of Homer. Translated from the Greek, 5 vols. (London: Printed for Bernard Lintot, 1725-26).
Date of Entry
06/07/2005
