Book III - Atrides then his massy lance prepares

Atrides then his massy lance prepares,

In act to throw, but first prefers his prayers:

"Give me, great Jove! to punish lawless lust,

And lay the Trojan gasping in the dust;

Destroy the aggressor, aid my righteous cause,

Avenge the breach of hospitable laws!

Let this example future times reclaim,

And guard from wrong fair friendship's holy name."

He said, and, poised in air, the javelin sent;

Through Paris' shield the forceful weapon went,

His corselet pierces, and his garment rends,

And, glancing downward, near his flank descends.

The wary Trojan, bending from the blow,

Eludes the death, and disappoints his foe:

But fierce Atrides waved his sword, and struck

Full on his casque; the crested helmet shook;

The brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand,

Broke short: the fragments glittered on the sand.

The raging warrior to the spacious skies

Raised his upbraiding voice, and angry eyes:

"Then is it vain in Jove himself to trust?

And is it thus the gods assist the just?

When crimes provoke us, heaven success denies;

The dart falls harmless, and the falchion flies."

Furious he said, and towards the Grecian crew,

Seized by the crest, the unhappy warrior drew;

Struggling he followed, while the embroidered thong,

That tied his helmet, dragged the chief along.

Then had his ruin crowned Atrides' joy,

But Venus trembled for the prince of Troy:

Unseen she came, and burst the golden band;

And left an empty helmet in his hand.

The casque, enraged, amidst the Greeks he threw;

The Greeks with smiles the polished trophy view.

Then, as once more he lifts the deadly dart,

In thirst of vengeance, at his rival's heart,

The queen of love her favoured champion shrouds,

For gods can all things, in a veil of clouds.

Raised from the field the panting youth she led,

And gently laid him on the bridal bed,

With pleasing sweets his fainting sense renews,

And all the dome perfumes with heavenly dews.