Pray to that God, who high on Ida's brow Surveys thy defolated realms below, His winged meffenger to fend from high, And lead thy way with heavenly augury: Let the ftrong fovereign of the plumy race Tower on the right of yon ætherial space. That fign beheld, and ftrengthen'd from above, Boldly purfue the journey mark'd by Jove; But if the God his augury denies, Supprefs thy impulfe, nor reject advice.
Now twilight veil'd the glaring face of day, 360 And clad the dufky fields in fober gray; What time the herald and the hoary king (Their chariots ftopping at the filver spring, 43 That circling Ilus' ancient marble flows) Allow'd their mules and steeds a short repofe. Through the dim shade the herald first espics A man's approach, and thus to Priam cries: I mark fome foe's advance: O king! beware; 435 This hard adventure claims thy utmost care; For, much I fear, deftruction hovers nigh: Our state afks counfel. Is it beft to fly? Or, old and helplefs, at his feet to fall (Two wretched fuppliants) and for mercy call?
"Tis juft (faid Priam, to the Sire above) To raise our hands; for who fo good as Jove? 370 Ha fpoke, and bade th' attendant handmaid bring The pureft water of the living spring (Her ready hands the ewer and bason held); Then took the golden cup his queen had fill'd; On the mid pavement pours the rofy wine, 375 Uplifts his eyes, and calls the Power divine: Oh firft, and greateft! Heaven's imperial Lord! On lofty Ida's holy hill ador'd!
Th' afflicted monarch fhiver'd with despair; Pale grew his face, and upright stood his hair; Sunk was his heart; his colour went and came; A fudden trembling fhook his aged frame: (445 When Hermes, greeting, touch'd his royal hand, And gently thus acçofts with kind demand:
Say whither, father! when each mortal fight 380 Is fear'd in fleep, thou wander'st through the night?
To flern Achilles now direct my ways, And teach him mercy when a father prays. If fuch thy will, difpatch from yonder sky Thy facred bird, celeftial augury! Let the ftrong fovereign of the plumy race Tower on the right of yon ætherial space : So fhall thy fuppliant, ftrengthen'd from above, Fearless purfue the journey mark'd by Jove. 386 Jove heard his prayer, and from the throne on Dispatch'd his bird, celestial augury! [high The fwift-wing'd chacer of the feather'd game, And known to Gods by Percnos' lofty name. 390 *Wide as appears fome palace-gate display'd, So broad, his pinions ftretch'd their ample fhade, As ftooping dexter with refounding wings Th' imperial bird defcends in airy rings. A dawn of joy in every face appears; The mourning matron dries her timorous tears; Swift on his car th' impatient monarch sprung; The brazen portal in his paffage rung. The mules preceding draw the loaded wain, Charg'd with the gifts: Idæus holds the rein: 400 The king himself his gentle steeds controls, And through furrounding friends the chariot rolls. On his flowy wheels the following people wait, Mourn at each step, and give him up to Fate; With hands uplifted, eye him as he past, And gaz'd upon him as they gaz'd their last. Now forward fares the father on his way, Through the lone fields, and back to Ilion they. Great Jove beheld him as he croft the plain, And felt the woes of miferable man. Then thus to Hermes: Thou whofe conftant cares Still fuccour mortals, and attend their prayers; Behold an object to thy charge confign'd: If ever pity touch'd thee for mankind,
Why roam thy mules and fteeds the plains along, Through Grecian foes, fo numerous and fo firong? What could't thou hope, should thefe thy trea- fures view;
Thefe, who with endless hate thy race pursue ? For what defence, alas! could't thou provide ; Thyfelf not young, a weak old man thy guide? Yet fuffer not thy foul to fink with dread: From me no harm shall touch thy reverend head; From Greece I'll guard thee too; for in thofe lines The living image of my father fhines.
Thy words, that speak benevolence of mind, Are truc, my fon! (the godlike fire rejoin'd) 460 Great are my hazards; but the Gods furvey My steps, and fend thee, guardian of my way. Hail, and be bleft! for scarce of mortal kind Appear thy form, thy feature, and thy mind.
Nor true are all thy words, nor erring wide 465 (The facred meffenger of Heaven reply'd); But fay, convey'st thou through the lonely plains What yet most precious of thy store remains, To lodge in fafety with some friendly hand: Prepar'd perchance, to leave thy native land! 470 Or fly'st thou now ?-What hopes can Troy re- tain;
Thy matchlefs fon, her guard and glory, flain? The king, alarm'd: Say what, and whence thou art,
Who fearch the forrows of a parent's heart, And know fo well how godlike Hector dy'd? 475 Thus Priam fpoke; and Hermes thus reply'd: You tempt me, father, and with pity touch: On this fad fubject you enquire too much.
Go, guard the fire; th' obferving foe prevent, 415 Oft have thefe eyes that godlike Hector view'd And fafe conduct him to Achilles' tent.
The God obeys, his golden pinions binds, And mounts incumbent on the wings of winds, That high, through fields of air, his flight fultain, O'er the wide earth, and o'er the boundless main: Then grafps the wand that causes fleep to fly, 421 Or in foft flumbers feals the wakeful eye; Thus arm'd, fwift Hermes fleers his airy way, And floops on Hellefpont's refounding fea. A beauteous youth, majestic and divine, He feem'd; fair offspring of fome princely line!
In glorious fight, with Grecian blood embrued: I faw him when, like Jove, his flames he toft 481 On thousand fhips, and wither'd half an host :.. I faw, but help'd not: ftern Achilles' ire Forbade affiftance, and enjoy'd the fire. For him I ferve, of Myrmidonian race; One fhip convey'd us from our native place; Polyctor is my fire, an honour'd name, Old like thyfelf, and not unknown to fame Of feven his fons, by whom the lot was caft To ferve our prince, it fell on me, the laft. 496
O favour'd of the Skies! thus answer'd then The Power that mediates between Gods and men) Nor dogs not vultures have thy Hector rent, But whole he lies, neglected in the tent; This the twelfth evening fince he refted there, 505 Untouch'd by worms, untainted by the air. Still as Aurora's ruddy beam is fpread, Round his friend's tomb Achilles drags the dead: Yet undisfigur'd, or in limb or face, All fresh he lies, with every living grace, Majeftical in death! No ftains are found O'er all the corpfe, and clos'd is every wound; Though many a wound they gave. Some heavenly
Some hand divine, preferves him ever fair: Or all the host of heaven, to whom he led A life fo grateful, ftill regard him dead.
Thus fpoke to Priam the celeftial guide! And joyful thus the royal fire reply'd : Bleft is the man who pays the Gods above The conftant tribute of refpect and love; Those who inhabit the Olympian bower My fon forgot not, in exalted power; And Heaven, that every virtue bears in mind, Ev'n to the ashes of the juft, is kind.
Thus having faid, he vanish'd from his eyes, And in a moment fhot into the skies: The king, confirm'd from Heaven, alighted there, And left his aged herald on the car. With folemn pace through various rooms he went, And found Achilles in his inner tent: There fate the hero; Alcimus the brave, And great Automedon, attendance gave: Thefe ferv'd his perfon at the royal feaft: Around, at awful distance, stood the reft. Unfeen by thefe, the king his entry made; 520 And, proftrate now before Achilles laid, Sudden (a venerable fight) appears; Embrac'd his knees, and bath'd his hands in tears; Thofe direful hands his kiffes prefs'd, embrued Ev'n with the beft, the dearest of his blood!
But thou, oh generous youth! this goblet take, 525 A pledge of gratitude, for Hector's fake; And, while the favouring Gods our fteps furvey, Safe to Pelides' tent conduct my way.
To whom the latent God: O King, forbear To tempt my youth, for apt is youth to err: But can I, abfent from my prince's fight, Take gifts in fecret, that must shun the light? What from our master's interest thus we draw, Is but a licens'd theft that 'scapes the law. Refpecting him, my foul abjures th' offence; And, as the crime, I dread the confequence. Thee, far as Argos, pleas'd I could convey; Guard of thy life, and partner of thy way: On thee attend, thy-fafety to maintain, O'er pathlefs forefts, or the roaring main.
He faid, then took the chariot at the bound, And fnatch'd the reins, and whirl'd the lafh around! Before th' infpiring God, that urged them on, The courfers fly, with fpirit not their own. (545 And now they reach'd the naval walls, and found The guards repafting, while the bowls go round: On these the virtue of his wand he tries, And pours deep flumber on their watchful eyes: Then heav'd the maffy gates, remov'd the bars, And o'er the trenches led the rolling cars. Pafeen, through all the hoftile camp they went, And now approach'd Pelides' lofty tent. Of fir the roof was rais'd, and cover'd o'er With reeds collected from the marshy fhore; And, fenc'd with palifades, a hall of fate, (The work of foldiers) where the hero fate,
As when a wretch (who, conscious of his crime, Purfued for murder, flies his native clime) Juft gains fome frontier, breathlefs, pale, amaz'd! All gaze, all wonder: thus Achilles gaz'd: Thus ftood th' attendants ftupid with furprise; All mute, yet feem'd to question with their eyes: Each look'd on other, none the filence broke, [596 Till thus at laft the kingly fuppliant spoke :
Ah think, thou favour'd of the Powers divine! Think of thy father's age, and pity mine! In me, that father's reverend image trace, 600 Those filver hairs, that venerable face;
His trembling limbs, his helpless perfon, fee! In all my equal, but in mifery!
Yet now, perhaps, fome turn of human fate Expels him helpless from his peaceful state; 605 Think, from fome powerful foe thou see'ft him fly, And beg protection with a feeble cry. Yet ftill one comfort in his foul may rife; He hears his fon ftill lives to glad his eyes; And, hearing, ftill may hope a better day May send him thee, to chafe that foe away. No comfort to my griefs, no hopes, remain: The best, the braveft, of my fons are flain! Yet what a race! ere Greece to Ilion came, The pledge of many a lov'd and loving dame! 615 Nineteen one mother bore-Dead, all are dead! How oft, alas! has wretched Priam bled! Still one was left, their lofs to recompenfe: His father's hope, his country's last defence. Him too thy rage has flain! beneath thy fteel,620 Unhappy, in his country's cause he fel!!
For him, through hoftile camps I hend my way, For him, thus proftrate at thy feet I lay; Large gifts proportion'd to thy wrath I bear; O hear the wretched, and the Gods revere! Think of thy father, and this face behold See him in me, as helplefs and as old! Though not fo wretched: there he yields to me, The firft of men in fovereign mifery t Thus forc'd to kneel, thus groveling to embrace 630 The fcourge and ruin of my realm and race; Suppliant my childrens' murderer to implore, And kifs thofe hands yet reeking with their gore! Thefe words foft pity in the chief infpire, Touch'd with the dear remembrance of his fire. 635 Then with his hand (as proftrate still he lay) The old man's cheek he gently turn'd away. Now each by turns indulg'd the guth of woe; And now the mingled tides together flow: This low on earth, that gently bending o'er, 640 A father one, and one a fon, deplore: But great Achilles different paffions rend, And now his fire he mourns, and now his friend. Th' infectious foftnefs through the heroes ran; One univerfal folemn fhower began; They bore as heroes, but they felt as man. Satiate at length with unavailing woes, From the high throne divine Achilles rofe; The reverend monarch by the hand he rais'd; On his white beard and form majestic gaz'd, Not unrelenting: then ferene began With words to foothe the miferable man: Alas! what weight of anguish haft thou known, Unhappy prince! thus guardlefs and alone To país through foes, and thus undaunted face 655 The man whofe fury has destroy'd thy race! Heaven fure has arm'd thee with a heart of steel, A ftrength proportion'd to the woes you feel. Rife then let reafon mitigate our care: To mourn, avails not; man is boru to bear. Such is, alas! the Gods' fevere decree: They, only they, are bleft, and only free. Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood, The fource of evil one, and one of good; From thence the cup of mortal man he fills, Bleffings to thefe, to those distributes ills; To moft, he mingles both; the wretch decreed To tafte the bad, unmix'd, is curft indeed; Purfued by wrongs, by meagre famine driven, He wanders, outcast both of earth and heaven.670 The happiest, tafte not happiness fincere ; But find the cordial draught is dash'd with care. Who more than Pelcus fhone in wealth
What fees the fun, but håplefs heroes' falls? 69 War and the blood of men furround thy walls! What must be, muft be. Bear thy lot, nor fhed Thefe unavailing forrows o'er the dead; ! hou canst not call him from the Stygian fhore, But thou, alas may'ft live, to fuffer more! 695 To whom the king: Oh, favour'd of the Skies! 2 Here let me grow to earth! fince Hector lies On the bare beach depriv'd of obfequies. Oh, give me Heor! to my eyes reftore His corpfe, and take the gifts; I afk no more. 700 Thou, as thou may'ft, these boundless stores enjoy ; Safe may't thou fail, and turn thy wrath front So fhall thy pity and forbearance give [Troy; A weak old man to fee the light and live! Move me no more! Achilles thus replies, 70s While kindling anger sparkled in his eyes); Nor feek by tears my steady foul to bend ; To yield thee Hector, I myself intend: For know, from Jove my Goddess-mother came (Old Ocean's daughter, filver-footed dame); 710 | Nor com'st thou but by Heaven : nor com'ft alone, Some God impels with courage not thy own: No human hand the weighty gates unbarr'd, Nor could the boldest of our youth have dar'd To pafs our out-works, or elude the guard. 715 Ceafe; left, neglectful of high Jove's command, I fhow thee, king thou tread ft on hoftile land; Release my knees, thy fuppliant arts give o'er, And fhake the purpofe of my foul no more. [720
The fire obey'd him, trembling and o'er-aw'd. Achilles, like a lion, rush'd abroad; Automedon and Alcimus attend (Whom moft he honour'd fince he loft his friend); Thefe to unyoke the mules and horses went, And led the hoary herald to the tent; Next heap'd on high the numerous prefents bear (Great Hedor's ranfom) from the polifh'd car. Two fplendid mantles, and a carpet spread, They leave, to cover and inwrap the dead.
Then call the handmaids, with affiftant toil 730 To wash the body and anoint with oil, Apart from Priam; left th' unhappy fire, Provok'd to paffion, once more rouse to ire The ftern Pelides; and nor facred age, Nor, Jove's command, should check the rifing rage. This done, the garments o'er the corpfe they Achilles lifts it to the funeral bed: [fpread; Then, while the body on the car they laid, He groans, and calls on lov'd Patroclus' fhade: If, in that gloom which never light must know, The deeds of mortals touch the ghosts below: 741 O friend! forgive me, that I thus fulfil (Reftoring Hector) Heaven's unqueftion'd will. The gifts the father gave, be ever thine, To grace thy manes, and adorn thy fhrine.
He faid, and, entering, took his feat of state, Where full before him reverend Priam fate: To whom, compos'd, the godlike chief begun→→ Lo! to thy prayer reftor'd, thy breathless fon; Extended on the funeral couch he lies; 750 And, foon as morning paints the eastern skies, The fight is granted to thy longing eyes. But now the peaceful hours of facred night Demand resection, and to rest invite: Nor thou, O father! thus confum'd with woe, 753 The common cares that nourish life forego. Not thus did Niobe, of form divine, A parent once, whofe forrows equall'd thine;
Six youthful fons, as many blooming maids, In one fad day beheld the Stygian fhades; Thefe by Apollo's filver bow were flain, Thofe Cynthia's arrows ftretch'd upon the plain: So was her pride chaftis'd by wrath divine, Who match'd her own with bright Latona's line; [765
But two the Goddess, twelve the queen enjoy'd: Those boasted twelve th' avenging two deftroy'd. Steep'd in their blood, and in the duft outfpread, Nine days, neglected, lay expos'd the dead; None by to weep them, to inhume them none (For Jove had turn'd the nation all to stone): 770 The Gods themselves at length, relenting, gave Th' unhappy race the honours of a grave. Herfelf a rock (for fuch was Heav'n's high will) Through deferts wild now pours a weeping rill; Where round the bed, whence Acheloüs fprings, The watery Fairies dance in mazy rings, There high on Sipylus's fhaggy brow, She stands, her own fad monument of woe; The rock for ever lafts, the tears for ever flow. Such griefs, O king! have other parents known: Remember theirs, and mitigate thy own. The care of Heav'n thy Hector has appear'd, Nor fhall he lie unwept and uninterr'd; Soon may thy aged checks in tears be drown'd, And all the eyes of Ilion ftream around.
He faid, and, rifing, chofe the victim ewe With filver fleece, which his attendants flew. The limbs they fever from the reeking hide, With kill prepare them, and in parts divide: Each on the coals the feparate morfels lays, And, hafty, fnatches from the rifing blaze. With bread the glittering canisters they load, Which round the board Automedon beftow'd: The chief himself to each his portion plac'd, And each indulging fhar'd in fweet repast. When now the rage of hunger was repreft, The wondering hero eyes his royal guest : No lefs the royal gueft the hero eyes, His godlike afpect and majestic fize; Here youthful grace and noble fire engage: And there, the mild benevolence of age. Thus gazing long, the filence neither broke, (A folemn fcene!) at length the father spoke ; Permit me now, belov'd of Jove! to steep My careful temples in the dew of fleep: For, fince the day that number'd with the dead My hapless fon, the dust has been my bed; Soft fleep a stranger to my weeping eyes; My only food my forrows and my fighs! Till now, encourag'd by the grace you give, I faare thy banquet, and confent to live.
To inter thy Hector? For, fö long we stay Our flaughtering arm, and bid the hofts obey. If then thy will permit (the monarch faid) To finish all due honours to the dead, This, of thy grace accord; to thee are known 83 The fears of Ilion clos'd within her town; And at what distance from our walls aspire The hills of Ide, and forefts for the fire. Nine days to vent our forrows I requeft, The tenth fhall fee the funeral and the feaft; 835 The next, to raise his monument be given; The twelfth we war, if war be doom'd by Heaven!
This thy request (reply'd the chief) enjoy; Till then, our arms fufpend the fall of Troy.
With that, Achilles bade prepare the bed, With purple foft, and fhaggy carpets spread; Forth, by the flaming lights, they bend their way, And place the couches, and the coverings lay. 815 Then he: Now, father, fleep, but fleep not here; Confult thy fafety, and forgive my fear; Left any Argive (at this hour awake, To afk our counfel, or our orders take) Approaching fudden to our open tent, Perchance behold thee, and our grace prevent. Should fuch report thy honour'd perfon here, The king of men the ranfom might defer; But fay with speed, if aught of thy defire
Then gave his hand at parting to prevent 840 The old man's fears, and turn'd within the tent; Where fair Brifeïs, bright in blooming charms, Expects her hero with defiring arms.
But in the porch the king and herald reft, [845 Sad dreams of care yet wandering in their breaft Now Gods and men the gift of fleep partake; Induftrious Hermes only was awake, The king's return revolving in his mind, To pafs the ramparts, and the watch to blind. The Pow'r defcending hover'd o'er his head : 850 And fleep'ft thou, father! (thus the vifion faid) Now doft thou fleep, when Hector is reftor'd? Nor fear the Grecian foes, or Grecian lord? Thy préfence herc should stern Atrides fee, Thy still-surviving fons may fue for thee, May offer all thy treasures yet contain, To fpare thy age, and offer all in vain. Wak'd with the word, the trembling fire arofe, And rais'd his friend: the God before him goes; He joins the mules, directs them with his hand, And moves in filence through the hostile land. 861 When now to Xanthus' yellow ftream they drove (Xanthus, immortal progeny of Jove)
The winged Deity forfook their vicw,
And in a moment to Olympus flew.
Now fhed Aurora round her fsaffron ray,
Sprung through the gate of light, and gave the Charg'd with their mournful load, to Ilion go The fage and king, majestically flow. Caffandra firft beholds, from Ilion's fpire, The fad proceffion of her hoary fire; Then, as the penfive pomp advanc'd more near (Her breathlefs brother stretch'd upon the bier) A fhower of tears o'erflows her beauteous eyes, Alarming thus all lion with her cries: Turn here your steps, and here your eyes em- ploy,
Ye wretched daughters, and ye fons of Troy! If e'er ye rush'd in crowds, with vaft delight, To hail your hero glorious from the fight, Now meet him dead, and let your forrows flow! Your common triumph, and your common woe. In thronging crowds they iffue to the plains; Nor man, nor woman, in the walls remains; in every face the felf-fame grief is shown; And Troy fends forth one univerfal groan. At Scaan's gates they meet the mourning wain, Hang on the wheels, and grovel round the flain. The wife and mother, frantic with despair, Kifs his pale check, and rend their scatter'd hair: Thus wildly wailing at the gates they lay; 890
Remains unafk'd; what time the rites require 825 And there had figh'd and forrow'd out the day a
But godlike Priam from the chariot rofe; Forbear the cry'd) this violence of woes, First to the palace let the car proceed, Then pour your boundless forrows o'er the dead. The waves of people at his word divide, Slow rolls the chariot through the following tide; Ev'n to the palace the fad pomp they wait; They weep, and place him on the bed of state. A melancholy choir attend around, With plaintive fighs, and mufic's folemn found: Alternately they fing, alternate flow Th' obedient tears, melodious in their woe. While deeper forrows groan from each full heart, And nature fpeaks at every pause of art. 905
Rofy and fair, as Phœbus' filver bow Difmifs'd thee gently to the fhades below!
Thus fpoke the dame, and melted into tears. Sad Helen next, in pomp of grief appears: Faft from the fhining fluices of her eyes Fall the round cryftal drops, while thus fhe cries Ah, dearest friend! in whom the Gods had join'd
The mildest manners with the bravest mind; Now twice ten years (unhappy years!) are o'er Since Paris brought me to the Trojan shore; 968 (O had I perish'd ere that form divine Seduc'd this foft, this eafy heart of mine }) Yet was it ne'er my fate, from thee to find A deed ungentle, or a word unkind: When others curst the authoress of their woe, 970 Thy pity check'd my forrows in their flow; If fome proud brother ey'd me with difdain, Or fcornful fifter with her sweeping train; Thy gentle accents Toften'd all my pain. For thee I mourn; and mourn myself in thee, 975 The wretched fource of all this mifery! The fate I caus'd, for ever I bemoan; 915 Sad Helen has no friend, now thou art gone! Through Troy's wide streets abandon'd fhall I roam!
First to the corpfe the weeping confort flew ; Around his neck her milk-white arms fhe threw, And, oh, my Hector! oh, my lord! she cries, Snatch'd in thy bloom from thefe defiring eyes! Thou to the difmal realms for ever gone! And I abandon'd, defolate, alone! An only fon, once comfort of our pains, Sad product now of hapless love, remains! Never to manly age that fon fhall rife, Or with encreasing graces glad mine eyes; For llion now (her great defender flain) Shall fink a fmoking ruin on the plain. Who now protects her wives with guardian care? Who faves her infants from the rage of war? New hostile fleets must waft those infants o'er 920 (Those wives must wait them) to a foreign fhore Thou too, my fon to barbarous climes fhalt go, The fad companions of thy mother's woe: Driven hence a flave before the victor's fword; Condemn'd to toil for fome inhuman lord: Or elfe fome Greek, whofe father preft the plain, Or fon, or brother, by great Hector flain; In Hector's blood his vengeance shall enjoy, And hurl thee headlong from the towers of Troy. For thy ftern father never spar'd a foe: Thence all these tears, and all this fcene of woe! Thence many evils his fad parents bore, His parents many, but his confort more. Why gav'st thou not to me thy dying hand? And why receiv'd not I thy last command? 935 Some word thou would'st have spoke, which, fadly My foul might keep, or utter with a tear; [dear, Which never, never, could be lost in air, Fix'd in my heart, and oft repeated there! Thus to her weeping maids the makes her 940
Her weeping handmaids echo groan for groan. The mournful mother next fuftains her part; Oh, thou, the best, the dearest to my heart! Of all my race thou moft by Heaven approv'd, And by th' Immortals ev'n in death belov'd! 945 While all my other fons in barbarous bands Achilles bound, and fold to foreign lands, This felt no chains, but went a glorious ghoît, Free and a hero, to the Stygian coast. Sentenc'd, 'tis truc, by his inhuman doom, Thy noble corpfe was dragg'd around the tomb (The tomb of him thy warlike arm had flain); Ungenerous infult, impotent and vain!
Yet glow'st thou fresh with every living grace; No mark of pain, or violence of face;
In Troy deserted, as abhorr'd at home!
So fpoke the fair, with forrow-ftreaming eye: Diftrefsful beauty melts each stander-by; On all around th' infectious forrow grows; But Priam check'd the torrent as it rofe :- Perform, ye Trojans! what the rites require, 98% And fell the forefts for a funeral pyre; Twelve days, nor foe, nor fecret ambush dread; Achilles grants these honours to the dead.
He fpoke; and, at his word, the Trojan train Their mules and oxen harness to the wain, 990 Pour through the gates, and, fell'd from Ida's crown,
Roll back the gather'd forefts to the town, Thefe toils continue nine fucceeding days, And high in air a fylvan structure raise; But when the tenth fair morn began to shine,995 Forth to the pile was borne the man divine, And plac'd aloft: while all, with ftreaming eyes, Beheld the flames, and rolling smokes arise. Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn, With rofy luftre streak'd the dewy lawn. Again the mournful crowds furround the pyre, And quench with wine the yet-remaining fire. The fnowy bones his friends and brothers place {With tears collected) in a golden vafe; The golden vase in purple palls they roll'd, 1005 Of fofteft texture, and inwrought with gold. Laft o'er the urn the facred earth they fpread, And rais'd the tomb, memorial of the dead." (Strong guards and fpies, till all the rites were done
Watch'd from the ring to the fetting fun). rote All Troy then moves to Priam's court again, A folemn, filent, melancholy train: Affembled there, from pious toil they rest, And fadly fhar'd the last fepulchral feast. Such honours Ilion to her hero paid, And peaceful lept the mighty Hector's fhade
« ZurückWeiter » |