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?

366

"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!

[440

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?

395

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,

405

410

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;

45.

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.

455

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!

425

485

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

care,

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.

510

515

575

580

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.

530

535

540

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,

550

555

585

591

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!

610

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!!

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!

820

Remains unafk'd; what time the rites require 825 And there had figh'd and forrow'd out the day a

[895

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

900

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!

910

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

moan:

925

930

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!

950

Yet glow'st thou fresh with every living grace;
No mark of pain, or violence of face;

955

In Troy deserted, as abhorr'd at home!

980

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