Not fo his lofs the fierce Achilles bore;
But fad retiring to the founding fhore,
O'er the wild margin of the deep he hung,
That kindred deep from whence his mother sprung:
There, bath'd in tears of anger and disdain,
Thus loud lamented to the stormy main:

ow'd,

O parent Goddess! fince in early bloom Thy fon muft fall, by too severe a doom; Sure, to fo fhort a race of glory born, Great Jove in juftice fhould this fpan adorn : Honour and fame at least the Thunderer And ill he pays the promise of a God; If yon proud monarch thus thy for defies, Obfcures my glories, and refumes my prize. Far from the deep receffes of the main, Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign, The Goddefs-mother heard. The waves divide; And like a mist she rose above the tide; Beheld him mourning on the naked hores, And thus the forrows of his foul explores. Why grieves my fon? Thy anguish let me share, Reveal the caufe, and trust a parent's care.

He deeply fighing faid: To tell my woe,
It but to mention what too well you know.
From Thebè facred to Apollo's name,
(Action's realm) our conquering army came,
With treasure loaded and triumphant fpoils,
Whofe juft divifion crown'd the foldier's toils:
But bright Chryfeïs, heavenly prize! was led,
By vote felected, to the general's bed.
The priest of Phoebus fought by gifts to gain
His beauteous daughter from the victor's chain;
The fleet he reach'd, and lowly bending down,
Held forth the fceptre and the laurel crown,
Entreating all: but chief implor'd for grace
The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race:
The generous Greeks their joint confent declare,
The priest to reverence, and release the fair;
Not fo Atrides: He, with wonted pride,
The fire infulted, and his gifts deny'd:
The infulted fire (his God's peculiar care)

To Phoebus pray'd, and Phœbus heard the prayer:
A dreadful plague enfues; th' avenging darts
Inceffant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts.
A prophet then, infpir'd by Heaven, arose,
And points the crime, and thence derives the

woes.

Myfelf the first th' affembled chiefs incline
Tavert the vengeance of the power divine;
Then rifing in his wrath, the monarch storm'd;
Incens'd he threaten'd, and his threats perform'd:
The fair Chryfeïs to her fire was fent,
With offer'd gifts, to make the God relent;
But now he feiz'd Brifeïs heavenly charms,
And of my valour's prize defrauds my arms,
Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train;
And service, faith, and juftice plead in vain.
But, Goddess thou thy fuppliant fon attend,
To high Olympus' fhining court afcend,
Urge all the ties to former service ow'd,
And fue for vengeance to the thundering God.
Oft haft thou triumph'd in the glorious boaft,
That thou stood'st forth of all th' æthereal hoft,
When bold rebellion fhook the realms above,
Th' undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove.
When the bright partner of his awful reign,
The warlike maid, and monarch of the main,

The traitor-gods, by mad ambition driven,
Durft threat with chains th' omnipotence of Heaven.
Then call'd by thee, the monster Titan came,
(Whom Gods Briareus, Men Ægeon name)
Through wondering skies enormous stalk'd along;
Not he that shakes the folid earth fo strong:
With giant-pride at Jove's high throne he stands,
And brandifh'd round him all his hundred hands;
Th' affrighted Gods confefs'd their awful lord,
They cropt the fetters, trembled, and ador'd.
This, Goddess, this to his remembrance call,
Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall;
Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train,
To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main,
To heap the fhores with copious death, and bring
The Greeks to know the curfe of fuch a king:
Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head
O'er all his wide dominion of the dead,
And mourn in blood, that e'er he durst disgrace
The boldest warrior of the Grecian race.

Unhappy fon! (fair Thetis thus replies,
While tears celestial trickle from her eyes)
Why have I borne thee with a mother's throes,
To fates averfe, and nurs'd for future woes?
So fhort a space the light of Heaven to view!,
So fhort a space! and fill'd with torrow too!
O might a parent's careful with prevail,
Far, far from Ilion should thy veffels fail,
And thou, from camps remote, the danger fhun,
Which now, alas! too nearly threats my fon.
Yet (what I can) to move thy fuit I'll go
To great Olympus crown'd with fleecy fnow.
Mean time, fecure within thy fhips, from far
Behold the field, nor mingle in the war.
The fire of Gods and all th' ætherial train,
On the warm limits of the fartheft main,
Now mix with mortals, nor difdain to grace
The feafts of Ethiopia's blameleis race;
Twelve days the powers indulge the genial rite,
Returning with the twelfth revolving light.
Then will I mount the brazen dome, and move
The high tribunal of immortal Jove.

The Goddess spoke: the rolling waves unclofe; Then down the deep the plung'd from whence fle And left him forrowing on the lonely coaft, [rofe, In wild refentment for the fair he loft.

In Cryfa's port now fage Ulyffes rode; Beneath the deck the deftin'd victims stow'd; The fails they furl'd, they lafh'd the mast aside, And dropp'd their anchors, and the pinnace ty'd, Next on the fhore their hecatomb they land, Chryfeïs laft defcending on the ftrand. Her, thus returning from the furrow'd main, Ulyffes led to Phoebus' facred fane; Where at his folemn altar as the maid He gave to Chryfes, thus the Hero faid:

Hail! reverend prince! to Phoebus' awful dome
A fuppliant I from great Atrides come;
Unranfom'd here receive the spotlefs fair;
Accept the hecatombs the Greeks prepare;
And may thy God, who fcatters darts around,
Aton'd by facrifice, defift to wound.

At this, the fire embrac'd the maid again,
So fadly loft, fo lately fought in vain.
Then near the altar of the darting king,
Dispos'd in rank their hecatomb they bring:
Neptune,

With water purify their hands, and take
The facred offering of the falted cake;
While thus with arms devoutly rais'd in air,
And folemn voice, the priest directs his prayer:
God of the filver bow, thy ear incline,
Whole power incircles Cilla the divine;
Whofe facred eye thy Tenedos furveys,
And gilds fair Chryfa with diftinguish'd rays!
If, fir'd to vengeance at the prieft's request,
Thy direful darts inflict the raging peft;
Once more attend! avert the wafteful woe,
And imile propitious, and unbend thy bow.

So Chryfes pray'd, Apollo heard his prayer:
And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare;
Between their horns the falted barley threw,
And with their heads to Heaven the victims flew :
The limbs they fever from th' enclosing hide;
The thighs, felected to the Gods, divide:
On thete, in double cawls involv'd with art,
The choiceft morfels lay from every part.
The priest himself before his altar ftands,
And burns the offering with his holy hands;
Pours the black wine, and fees the flames afpire;
The youths with inftruments furround the fire:
The thighs thus facrific'd, and entrails dreft,
Th' aitants part, transfix, and roast the rest:
Then ipread the tables, the repaft prepare,
Each takes his feat, and each receives his fhare.
When now the rage of hunger was repreft,
With pure libations they conclude the feaft;
The youths with wine the copious goblets crown'd,
And, pleas'd, difpenfe the flowing bowls around.
With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends,
The Paans lengthen'd till the fun descends:
The Greeks, reitor'd, the grateful notes prolong;
Apollo liftens, and approves the fong.

'Twas night; the chiefs befide their vessel lie, Till rofy morn had purpled o'er the sky: Then launch, and hoift the maft; indulgent gales, Supply'd by Phoebus, fill the fwelling fails; The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow, The parted ocean foams and roars below: Above the bounding billows fwift they flew, Till now the Grecian camp appear'd in view. Far on the beach they haul their bark to land (The crooked keel divides the yellow fand); Then part, where ftreach'd along the winding bay The hips and tents in mingied prospect lay.

But raging ftill, amidft his navy fate
The ftern Achilles, ftedfaft in his hate;
Nor mix'd in combat, nor in council join'd;
But waiting cares lay heavy on his mind:
In his black thoughts revenge and flaughter roll,
And icenes of blood rife dreadful in his foul.
Twelve days were paft, and now the dawning
light

The Gods had fummon'd to th' Olympian height:
Jove firft afcending from the watery bowers,
Leads the long order of æthereal powers.
When like the morning mift in early day,
Rofe from the flood the Daughter of the Sea;
And to the feats divine her flight addreft.
There, far apart, and high above the rest,
The Thunderer fat; where old Olympus fhrouds
His hundred heads in heaven, and props the cloud.
Suppliant the Goddefs ftood: one hand the plac'd
Beneath his beard, and one his knee embrac'd;

If e'er, O Father of the Gods: the faid,
My words could please thee, or my actions aid
So:ne marks of honour on my fon bestow,
And pay in glory what in life you owe.
Fame is at leaft by heavenly promile due
To life to fhort, and now difhonoured too.
Avenge this wrong, oh ever juft and wife!
Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rife;
Till the proud king, and all the Achaian race,
Shall heap with honours him they now difgrace,

Thus Thetis fpoke, but Jove in filence held
The facred councils of his breast conceal'd.
Not fo repuls'd, the Goddefs clofer preft,
Still grafp'd his knees, and urg'd the dear requests
O fire of Gods and men! thy fuppliant hear;
Refufe, or grant; for what has Jove to fear?
Or, oh! declare, of all the powers above,
Is wretched Thetis leaft the care of Jove?

She faid, and fighing thus the God replies,
Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted skies?
What haft thou afk'd? Ah why should Jove en-
In foreign contefts, and domeftic rage,
[gage
The Gods complaints, and Juno's fierce alarms,
While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms?
Go, ieft the haughty partner of my way
With jealous eyes thy clofe accets furvey;
But part in peace, fecure thy prayer is iped:
Witness the facred honours of our head,
The nod that ratifies the will divine,
The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable fign,
This feals thy fuit, and this fulfils thy vows----
He fpoke, and awful bends his fable brows;
Shakes his ambrofial curls, and gives the nod:
The ftamp of fate, and fanction of the God:
High heaven with trembling the dread fignal took,
And all Olympus to the centre fhook.

Swift to the feas profound the Goddefs flies,
Jove to his ftarry manfion in the fkies.
The fhining fynod of th' immortals wait

The coming God, and from their thrones of state t
Arifing filent, wrapt in holy fear,

Before the majefty of heaven appear;

Trembling they stand, while Jove affumes the

throne,

All, but the God's imperious queen alone:
Late had the view'd the filver-footed dame,
And all her paffions kindled into flame.
Say, artful manager of heaven (the cries)
Who now partakes the fecrets of the kies?
Thy Juno knows not the decrees of fate,
In vain the partner of imperial state.
What favourite Goddels then thofe cares divides,
Which Jove in prudence from his confort hides?

To this the Thunderer: Seek not thou to find
The facred counfels of Almighty mind:
Involv'd in darkness lies the great decree,
Nor can the depths of fate be pierc'd by thee.
What fits thy knowledge, thou the first shalt know
The firft of Gods above, and men below;
But thou, nor they, fhall fearch the thoughts that
Deep in the clofe receffes of my foul.

[roll

Full on the fire the Goddess of the fkies Roll'd the large orbs of her majeftic eyes, And thus return'd: Austere Saturnius, fay From whence this wrath, or who controls thy (way? Thy boundless will, for me, remains in force, And all thy councils take the destin❜d courte

Fly hence, deluding dream! and, light as air, To Agamemnon's ample tent repair;

Bid him in arms draw forth th' embattled train,
Lead all his Grecians to the dusty plain.
Declare, ev'n now 'tis given him to destroy
The lofty towers of wide extended Troy.
For now no more the Gods with fate contend;
At Juno's fuit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall,
And nodding Ilion waits th' impending fall.
Swift as the word the yain illusion fled,
Defcends, and hovers o'er Atrides' head;
Cloth'd in the figure of the Pilian fage,
Renown'd for wifdom, and rever'd for age;
Around his temples fpreads his golden wing,
And thus the flattering dream deceives the king:
Can't thou, with all a monarch's cares opprest,
Oh, Atreus fon! can' thou indulge thy reft?
Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides,
Directs in council, and in war prefides,
To whom its fafety a whole people owes,
To wafte long nights in indolent repofe.
Monarch, awake. 'tis Jove's commands I bear;
Thou, and thy glory, claim his heavenly care.
In just array draw forth th' embattled train,
Lead all thy Grecians to the dusty plain;
Ev'n now, O king! 'tis given thee to destroy
The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy.
For now no more the Gods with fate contend,
At Juno's fuit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall,
And nodding Ilion waits th' impending fall.
Awake; but waking, this advice approve,
And truft the vifion that defcends from Jove.
The phantora faid; then vanifi'd from his
fight,

Refolves to air, and mixes with the night.
A thoufand fchemes the monarch's mind employ;
Elate in thought he facks untaken Troy :
Vain as he was, and to the future blind;
Nor faw what Jove and fecret tate defign'd,
What mighty toils to either hoft remain,
What scenes of grief, and numbers of the flain!
Eager he rifes, and in fancy hears

The voice celeftial murmuring in his ears.
First on his limbs a flender veft he drew,
Around him next the regal mantle threw ;
Th' embroider'd fandals on his feet were tied,
The ftarry faulchion glitter'd at his fide;
And laft his arm the maffy fceptre loads,
Unftain'd, immortal, and the gift of Gods.
Now rofy morn afcends the court of Jove,
Lifts up her light, and opens day above.
The king dispatch'd his heralds with commands
To range the camp, and fummon all the bands;
The gathering hofts the monarch's word obey;
While to the fleet Atrides bends his way.
In his black fhip the Pylian prince he found;
There calls a fenate of the Peers around;
Th' affembly plac'd, the king of men expreft
The counfels labouring in his artful breast:

Friends and confederates! with attentive car Receive my words, and credit what you hear. Late as I flumber'd in the fhades of night, A dream divine appear'd before my fight; Whofe vifionary form like Neftor came, The fame in habit, and in mien the fame.

The heavenly phantom hover'd o'er my head,
And, doft thou fleep, Oh, Arreu fon? (he faid}
Ill fits a chief whe mighty nations guides,
Directs in council, and in war prefides,
To whom its fafety a whole people owes;
To wafte long nights in indolent repose.
Monarch, awake! 'tis Jove's command I bear,
Thou and thy glory claim his heavenly care.
In just array draw forth th' embattled train,
And lead the Grecians to the dusty plain;
Ev'n now, O king! 'tis given thee to destroy
The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy.
For now no more the Gods with fate contend;
At Juno's fuit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction hangs on yon devoted wall,
And nodding Ilion waits th' impending fall.
This hear obiervant, and the Gods obey!
The vision spoke, and paft in air away.
Now, valiant chiefs! fince Heav'n itself alarms;
Unite, and roufe the fons of Greece to arms.
But first, with caution try what yet they dare,
Worn with nine years of unfuccefsiul war!
To move the troops to measure back the main,
Be mine; and your's the province to detain.

He fooke, and fat; when Neftor rifing faid,
(Neftor, whom Pylos' fandy realis obey'd)
Princes of Greece, your faithful ears incline,
Nor doubt the vifion of the Powers divine;
Sent by great Jove to him who rules the host,
Forbid it, Heaven! this warning fhould be loft!
Then let us hafte, obey the God's alarms,
And join to rouse the fons of Greece to arms.

Thus fpoke the age: The kings without delay
Diffolve the council, and their chief obey:
The fceptred rulers lead; the following hoft
Pour'd forth by thoufands, darkens all the coast.
As from fome rocky cleft the shepherd fees
Cluftering in heaps on heaps the driving bees,
Rolling, and blackening, fwarms fucceeding
fwarms,

With deeper murmurs and more hoarfe alarms;
Dufky they spread, a close embody'd crowd,
And o'er the vale defcends the living cloud.
So, from the tents and ships, a lengthening train
Spreads all the beach, and wide o'erfhades the
Along the region runs a deafening found; [plain :
Beneath their footsteps groans the trembling
Fame flies before, the meflenger of Jove, [ground.
And fhining foars, and claps her wings above.
Nine facred heralds now, proclaiming loud
The monarch's will, fufpend the listening crowd.
Soon as the throngs in order rang'd appear,
And fainter murmurs dy'd upon the ear,
The king of kings his awful figure rais'd;
High in his hand the golden fceptre blaz'd:
The golden fceptre, of celeftial frame,
By Vulcan form'd, from Jove to Hermes came :
To Pelops he th' immortal gift refign'd;
Th' immortal gift great Pelops left behind,
In Atreus' hand, which not with Atreus ends,
To rich Thyeftes next the prize defcends:
And now the mark of Agamemnon's reign,
Subjects all Argos, and controls the main.

On this bright fceptre now the king reclin'd, And artful thus pronounc'd the speech defign'd. Ye fons of Mars! partake your leader's care, Heroes of Greece, and brothers of the war!

Of partial Jove with justice I complain,
And heavenly oracles believ'd in vain.
A fafe return was promis'd to our toils,
Renown'd, triumphant, and enrich'd with spoils.
Now thameful flight alone can save the host,
Our blood, our treasure, and our glory lost.
So Jove decrees, refittlefs lord of all!
At whofe command whole empires rise or fall:
He shakes the feeble props of human truft,
And towns and armies humbles to the duft.
What shame to Greece a fruitles war to wage,
Oh, lasting shame in every future age!
Once great in arms, the common icorn we grow,
Repuls'd and baffled by a feeble foe:

So fmall their number, that if wars were ceas'd,
And Greece triumphant held a general feast,
All rank'd by tens, whole decades when they dine
Muit want a Trojan lave to pour the wine.
But other forces have our hopes o'erthrown,
And Troy prevails by armies not her own.
Now nine long years of mighty Jove are run,
Since first the labours of this war begun:
Our cordage torn, decay'd our veffels lie,
And scarce enfure the wretched power to fly.
Hafte then, for ever leave the Trojan wall!
Our weeping wives, our tender children call:
Love, duty, fafety, fummon us away,
'Tis nature's voice, and nature we obey.
Our shatter'd barks may yet transport us o'er,
Safe and inglorious, to our native shore.
Fly, Grecians, fly, your fails and oars employ,
And dream no more of Heav'n-defended Troy.
His deep defign unknown, the hofts approve
Atrides' speech. The mighty numbers move.
So roll the billows to th' Icarian fhore,

From Eaft and South when winds begin to roar,
Burft their dark manfions in the clouds, and fweep
The whitening furface of the ruffled deep,
And as on corn when western gufts defcend,
Before the blast the lofty harvest bends:
Thus o'er the field the moving host appears,
With nodding plumes, and groves of waving
fpears.
[feet
The gathering murmur fpreads, their trampling
Beat the loose fands, and thicken to the fleet.
With long-refounding cries they urge the train
To fit the hips, and launch into the main.
They toil, they fweat, thick clouds of duft arise,
The doubling clamours echo to the skies.
Ev'n then the Greeks had left the hostile plain,
And fate decreed the fall of Troy in vain;
But Jove's imperial queen their flight survey'd,
And fighing, thus bespoke the blue-ey'd maid:
Shall then the Grecians fly! O dire disgrace!
And leave unpunith'd this perfidious race?
Shall Troy, fhall Priam, and th' adulterous fpoufe,
In peace enjoy the fruits of broken vows?
And braveft chiefs, in Helen's quarrel flain,
Lie unreveng'd on yon detefted plain ?
No: let my Greeks, unmov'd by vain alarms,
Once more refulgent shine in brazen arms.
Hafte, Goddess, hafte! the flying hoft detain,
Nor let one fail be hoisted on the main.

Pallas obeys, and from Olympus' height
Swift to the ships precipitates her flight;
Ulyffes, firft in public cares, the found,
For prudent counfel likee Gods renown'd:

Oppress'd with gen'rous grief the hero stood,
Nor drew his fable vetfels to the flood.
And is it thus, divine Laërtes' fon!
Thus fly the Greeks (the martial maid begun)
Thus to their country bear their own difgrace,
And fame eternal leave to Priam's race?
Shall beauteous Helen ftill remain unfreed,
Still unreveng'd a thousand heroes bleed?
Hatte, generous Ithacus! prevent the shame,
Recall your armies, and your chiefs reclaim.
Your own refiitlefs eloquence employ,
And to the immortals truft the fall of Troy.

The voice divine confefs'd the warlike maid,
Ulyffes heard, nor uninfpir'd obey'd:
Then meeting firft Atrides, from his hand
Receiv'd th' imperial fceptre of command.
Thus grac'd, attention and respect to gain,
He runs, he flies, through all the Grecian train;
Each prince of name, or chief in arms approv'd,
He fir'd with praite, or with perfuafion mov'd.

Warriors, like you, with strength and wildom By brave examples fhould confirm the reft. [bleit, The monarch's wili not yet reveal'd appears; He tries our courage, but resents our fears: Th' unwary Greeks his fury may provoke; Not thus the king in fecret council spoke. Jove loves our chief, from Jove his honour fprings, Beware for dreadful is the wrath of kings.

But if a clamorous vile plebeian rofe, Him with reproof he check'd, or tam'd with blows, Be ftill, thou flave, and to thy betters yield; Unknown alike in council and in field! Ye Gods, what daftards would our hoft command, Swept to the war, the lumber of a land! Be filent, wretch, and think not here allow'd That worst of tyrants, an ufurping crowd To one fole monarch Jove commits the fway; His are the laws, and him let all obey.

With words like these the troops Ulyffes rul'd, The loudest filenc'd, and the fiercest cool'd. Back to th' aflembly roll'd the thronging train, Defert the ships, and pour upon the plain. Murmuring they move, as when old Ocean roars, And heaves huge furges to the trembling fhores:" The groaning banks are burit with bellowing

found,

The rocks remurmur, and the deeps rebound.
At length the tumult sinks, the noises cease,
And a ftill filence lulls the camp to peace,
Therfites only clamour'd in the throng,
Loquacious, loud, and turbulent of tongue :
Aw'd by no fhame, by no refpects control'd,
In fcandal bufy, in reproaches bold:
With witty malice ftudious to defame:
Scorn all his joy, and laughter ali his aim;
But chief he glory'd, with licentious ftyle,
To lafh the great, and monarchs to revile.
His figure fuch as might his foul proclaim;
One eye was blinking, and one leg was lame;
His mountain fhoulders half his breast o'erfpread,
Thin hairs beftrew'd his long mishapen head.
Spleen to mankind his envious heart poffeft,
And much he hated all, but most the best.
Ulyffes or Achilles ftill his theme;
But royal fcandal his delight fupreme.
Long had he liv'd the fcorn of every Greek,
Vext when he spoke, yet still they heard him speak