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Our common safety muft be now the care ;
But soon as morning paints the fields of air,
Sheath'd in bright arms let every troop engage,
And the fir'd fleet behold the battle rage.

Then, then shall He&tor and. Tydides prove,
Whose fases are heavieft in the scales of Jove :
To-morrow's light (oh halte the glorious morn!)
Shall see his bloody spoils in triumph borne ;
With this keen javelin shall his breast be gor’d,
And proftrate heroes bleed around their lord.
Certain as this, oh! might my days endure,
From age inglorious, and black death secure ;
So might my life and glory know no bound,
Like Pallas worship’d, like the sun renown'd!

670 As the next dawn, the last they shall enjoy, Shall crush the Greeks, and end the woes of Troy.

The leader {poke. From all his host around Shouts of applause along the lhores resound. Each from the yoke the smoking steeds unty'd, And fix'd their headstalls to his chariot-fide. Fat sheep and oxen from the town are led, With generous wine, and all-sustaining bread. Full hecatombs lay burning on the shore; The winds to heaven the curling vapours bore. 680 Ungrateful offering to th' inimortal powers ! Whose wrath hung heavy o'er the Trojan towers ; Nor Priam nor his sons obtain'd their grace ; Proud Troy they hated, and her guilty race,

The troops exulting fat in order round, And beaming fires illumin'd all the ground;



As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night!
O’er heaven's clear azure fpreads her sacred light,
When not a breath difturbs the deep serene,
And not a cloud o'ercafts the folemn scene ; : 696
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole;
O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure thed,
And tip with filver every mountain's head;
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rife,
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies :

The conscious swains, rejoicing in the fight,
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light :
So many flames before proud Ilion blaze,
And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays :
The long reflections of the distant fires

900 Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the fpires A thousand piles the dusky horrours gild, And shoot a fhady luftre o'er the field. Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend, Whose umber'd arms, by fits, thick flashes send; gog Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps of corn; And ardent warriors wait the rising morn.


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The Embassy to Achilles. Agamemnon, after the last day's defeat, proposes to

the Greeks to quit the liege, and return to their country. Diomed opposes this ; and Nestor seconds him, praising his wisdom and resolution : he ore ders- the guard to be strengthened, and a council summoned to deliberate what measures are to be followed in this emergency. Agamemnon pursues this advice: and Nestor farther prevails upon him to fend anıbassadors to Achilles, in order to move him to a reconciliation. Ulyffes and Ajax are made choice of, who are accompanied by old Phænix.

They make, each of them, very moving and prefsing speeches ; but are rejected, with roughness, by Achilles, who notwithstanding retains Phænix in his tent. The ambassadors return unsuccessfully to the camp; and the troops betake themselves to sleep.

This book, and the next following, take up the space of one night, which is the twenty-seventh from the beginning of the poem. The scene lies on the sea. Lore, the station of the Grecian lips.





THUS.joyful Troy maintain d the watch of night;

While fear, pale comrade of inglorious flight;
And heaven-bred horrour, on the Grecian part,
Sat on each face, and fadden'd every

As, from its cloudy dungeon issuing forth,
A double tempest of the west and north
Swells o'er the sea, from Thracia's frozen shore,
Heaps wayes on waves, and bids th’ Ægean roar;
This way and that, the boiling deeps are tolt;
Such various passions urge the troubled hoft.
Great Agamemnon griev'd above the rest;
Superior sorrows swell’d his royal breast;
Himself his orders to the heralds bears,
To bid to council all the Grecian peers ;
But bid in whispers: these surround their chief,

In folemn sadness, and majestic grief.
The king amidst the mournful circle rose;
Down his wan cheek a briny torrent flows':
So Silent fountains, from a rock's tall head,
In sable streams foft-trickling waters Thed.
With more than vulgar grief he stood opprest,
Words, mixt with sighs, thus bursting from his breast;



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