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Now flaming from the zenith, Sol had driven His fervid orb through half the vault of heaven; While on each host with equal tempests fell The showering darts, and numbers sank to hell. But when his evening wheels o’erhung the main, Glad conquest rested on the Grecian train. Then from amidst the tumult and alarms, They draw the conquer’d corse and radiant arms. Then rash Patroclus with new fury glows, And breathing slaughter, pours amid the foes. Thrice on the press like Mars himself he flew, And thrice three heroes at each onset slew. There ends thy glory! there the Fates untwine The last, black remnant of so bright a line: Apollo dreadful stops thy middle way; Death calls, and heaven allows no longer day!

In this quiet way the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away. Easter was approaching, and the week preceding it was to bring an addition to the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle must be important. Elizabeth had heard, soon after her arrival, that Mr. Darcy was expected there in the course of a few weeks; and though there were not many of her acquaintance whom she did not prefer, his coming would furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Rosings parties, and she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley’s designs on him were, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently destined by Lady Catherine, who talked of his coming with the greatest satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by Miss Lucas and herself.

Telemachus did as his father said, and went off to the store room where the armour was kept. He chose four shields, eight spears, and four brass helmets with horse-hair plumes. He brought them with all speed to his father, and armed himself first, while the stockman and the swineherd also put on their armour, and took their places near Ulysses. Meanwhile Ulysses, as long as his arrows lasted, had been shooting the suitors one by one, and they fell thick on one another: when his arrows gave out, he set the bow to stand against the end wall of the house by the door post, and hung a shield four hides thick about his shoulders; on his comely head he set his helmet, well wrought with a crest of horse-hair that nodded menacingly above it,168 and he grasped two redoubtable bronze-shod spears.

The entertainment of dining at Rosings was repeated about twice a week; and, allowing for the loss of Sir William, and there being only one card-table in the evening, every such entertainment was the counterpart of the first. Their other engagements were few, as the style of living of the neighbourhood in general was beyond the Collinses’ reach. This, however, was no evil to Elizabeth, and upon the whole she spent her time comfortably enough: there were half hours of pleasant conversation with Charlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year, that she had often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favourite walk, and where she frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was along the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there was a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine’s curiosity.

Then rushing sudden on his prostrate prize, To spoil the carcase fierce Patroclus flies: Swift as a lion, terrible and bold, That sweeps the field, depopulates the fold; Pierced through the dauntless heart, then tumbles slain, And from his fatal courage finds his bane. At once bold Hector leaping from his car, Defends the body, and provokes the war. Thus for some slaughter’d hind, with equal rage, Two lordly rulers of the wood engage; Stung with fierce hunger, each the prey invades, And echoing roars rebellow through the shades. Stern Hector fastens on the warrior’s head, And by the foot Patroclus drags the dead: While all around, confusion, rage, and fright, Mix the contending hosts in mortal fight. So pent by hills, the wild winds roar aloud In the deep bosom of some gloomy wood; Leaves, arms, and trees, aloft in air are blown, The broad oaks crackle, and the Sylvans groan; This way and that, the rattling thicket bends, And the whole forest in one crash descends. Not with less noise, with less tumultuous rage, In dreadful shock the mingled hosts engage. Darts shower’d on darts, now round the carcase ring; Now flights of arrows bounding from the string: Stones follow stones; some clatter on the fields, Some hard, and heavy, shake the sounding shields. But where the rising whirlwind clouds the plains, Sunk in soft dust the mighty chief remains, And, stretch’d in death, forgets the guiding reins!