The king himself (an honorary fign) {
Before great Ajax plac'd the mighty chine.
When now the rage of hunger was remov'd,
Neftor, in each perfuafive art approv'd,
The fage whofe counfels long had fway'd the reft,
390

In words like thefe his prudent thought expreft:
How dear, O kings! this fatal day has coft!
What Greeks are perifh'd! what a people loft!
What tides of blood have drench'd Scamander's
thore !

What crowds of heroes funk, to rife no more!

395

Then hear me, chief! nor let the morrow's light
Awake thy fquadrons to new toils of fight:
Some space at least permit the war to breathe,
While we to flames our flaughter'd friends be-
queath.

From the red field their scatter'd bodies bear; 400
And nigli the fleet a funeral ftructure rear;
So decent urns their fnowy bones may keep,
And pious children. o'er their afhes weep.
Here, where on one promifcuous pile they blaz'd,
High o'er them all a general tomb be rais'd; 405
Next, to fecure our camp, and naval powers,
Raife an embattled wall, with lofty towers;
From fpace to space be ample gates around,
For paffing chariots; and a trench profound,
So Greece to combat fhall in fafety go,
Nor fear the fierce incurfions of the foe.
'Twas thus the fage his whole fome counfel mov'd;
The fceptred kings of Greece his words approv'd.
Meanwhile, conven'd at Priam's pa ace gate,
The Trojan peers in nightly council fate;
A fenate void of order, as of choice;
Their hearts were fearful, and confus'd their
voice.

410

415

430

But found ungrateful in a warriour's ears:
Old man, if, void of fallacy or art,
Thy words exprefs the purpose of thy heart,
Thou, in thy time, more found advice haft given,
But wifdom has its date, affign'd by Heaven. 435
Then hear me, princes of the Trojan name!
Their treasures I'll reftore, but not the dame;
My treasures too, for peace, I will refign;
But be this bright poffeffion ever mine.
'Twas then, the groaning difcord to compofe,
440

Slow from his feat the reverend Priam rofe:
VOL. VI.

455

(Each at his poft in arms) a fhort repast. Soon as the rofy morn had wak'd the day, To the black fhips Idæus bent his way; There, to the fons of Mars, in council found, He rais'd his voice; the host food liftening round:

Ye fons of Atreus, and ye Greeks, give ear! 460 The words of Troy and Troy's great monarch hear,

Pleas'd may ye hear (fo Heaven fucceed my prayers)

What Paris, author of the war, declares.
The fpoils and treasures he to Ilion bore,
(Oh, had he periih'd ere they touch'd our fhore!)
465

He proffers injur'd Greece; with large increase
Of added Trojan wealth, to buy the peace.
But to restore the beauteous bride again,
This Greece demands, and Troy requests in vain.
Next, O ye chiefs! we afk a truce, to burn 470
Our flaughter'd heroes, and their bones inurn.
That done, once more the fate of war be try'd,
And whofe the conqueft, mighty Jove decide!

The Greeks gave ear, but none the filence broke:

480

With general shouts return'd him loud acclaim.
Then thus the King of Kings rejects the peace:
Herald in him thou hear'ft the voice of Greece.
For what remains; let funeral flames be fed
With heroes corpfe; I war not with the dead:
485

Go fearch your flaughter'd chiefs on yonder plain,
And gratify the manes of the flain:
Be witness, Jove, whofe thunder rolls on high!
He faid, and rear'd his fceptre to the iky.

To facred Troy, where all her princes lay 490
To wait th' event, the irevald bent his way.
He came, and standing in the midft, explain'd
The peace rejected, but the truce obtain'd.
Straight to their feveral cares the Trojans move;
Some fearch the plains, fome fell the founding
grove:

I

Shall, raz'd and lost, in long oblivion fleep.
Thus fpoke the hoary monarch of the deep.

Th' Almighty Thunderer with a frown replies, That clouds the world, and blackens half the skies: Strong God of Ocean! thou, whofe rage can nake 545

The fold Earth's eternal basis shake:
What caufe of fear from mortal works could

move

The meanest subject of our realms above?
Where'er the fun's refulgent rays are caft,
Thy power is honour'd, and thy fame shall last.
550

But yon proud work no future age fhall view,
No trace remain where once the glory grew,
The fapp'd foundations by thy force fhall fall,
And, whelm'd beneath thy waves, drop the huge
wall:

Vaft drifts of fand fhall change the former fhore; 555

The ruin vanish'd, and the name no more. Thus they in heaven: while o'er the Grecian train,

The cloud-compelling God her fuit approv'd,
And finil'd fuperiour on his best-belov'd.
Then call'd his courfers, and his chariot took ;
The stedfast firmament beneath him shook: 50
Rapt by th' æthereal fteeds the chariot roll'd;
Brafs were their hoofs, their curling manes of
gold.

Of heaven's undroffy gold the God's array
Refulgent, flafh'd intolerable day.

High on the throne he fhines: his courfers fly 55
Between th' extended earth and starry sky.
But when to Ida's topmoft height he came,
(Fair nurfe of fountains, and of favage game)
Where, o'er her pointed fummits proudly rais'd,
His fane breath'd odours, and his altars blaz'd: 60
There, from his radiant car the facred Sire
Of Gods and men releas'd the steeds of fire:
Blue ambient mifts th' immortal steeds embrac'd;
High on the cloudy point his feat he plac'd;
Thence his broad eye the fubject world furveys, 65
The town, and tents, and navigable feas.

Now had the Grecians fnatch'd a short repaft,
And buckled on their fhining arms with hate.
Troy rouz'd as foon; for on this dreadful day
The fate of fathers, wives, and infants, lay. 70
The gates unfolding pour forth all their train;
Squadrons on fquadrons cloud the dusky plain:
Men, fteeds, and chariots, shake the trembling
ground;

The tumult thickens, and the skies refound.
And now with fhouts the fhocking armies clos'd,

75

80

To lances lances, fhields to fhields oppos'd,
Hoft against hoft with fhadowy legions drew,
The founding darts in iron tempests flew,
Victors and vanquish'd join promifcuous cries,
Triumphant fhouts and dying groans arife;
With freaming blood the ili pery fields are dy'd,
And flaughter'd heroes fwell the dreadful tide.
Long as the morning beams encreasing bright,
O'er heaven's clear azure fpread the facred light;
Commutual death the fate of war confounds,
Each adverse battle gor'd with equal wounds.
But when the fun the height of heaven afcends;
The Sire of Gods his golden fcales fufpends,
With equal hand: in thefe explor'd the fate
Of Greece and Troy, and pois'd the mighty
weight.

85

Prefs'd with its load, the Grecian balance lies
Low funk on earth, the Trojan strikes the skies,
Then Jove from Ida's top his horrours fpreads;
The clouds burst dreadful o'er the Grecian heads:
Thick lightnings flash; the muttering thunder
rolls;

100

Their ftrength he withers, and unmans their fouls.
Before his wrath the trembling hosts retire,
The God in terrors, and the skies on fire.
Nor great domeneus that fight could bear,
Nor each stern Ajax, thunderbolts of war:
Nor he, the king of men, th' alarm fuftain'd;
Neftor alone amidst the ftorm remain'd.
Unwilling he remain'd, for Paris' dart
Had pierc'd his courfer in a mortal part:
Fix'd in the forehead where the fpringing mane
105
Curl'd o'er the brow, it stung him to the brain:
Mad with his anguifh, he begins to rear,
Paw with his hoofs aloft, and lafh the air.
Scarce had his faulchion cut the reins, and freed
Th' encumber'd chariot from the dying fteed, 110
When dreadful Hector, thundering through the
war,

115

Pour'd to the tumult on his whirling car.
That day had stretch'd beneath his matchless hand
The hoary monarch of the Pylian band:
But Diomed beheld: from forth the croud
He rush'd, and on Ulyffes call'd aloud.
Whither, oh whither does Ulyffes run?
Oh flight unworthy great Laertes' fon!
Mix'd with the vulgar fhall thy fate be found,
Pierc'd in the back, a vile, difhoneft wound? 120
Oh turn and fave from Pector's d reful rage
The glory of the Greeks, the Pylian fage.
His fruitless words are loft unheard in air,
Ulyffes feeks the fhips, and shelters there.
But bold Tydides to the refcue goes,
A fingle warriour 'midt a host of foes;
Before the courfers with a fudden fpring
He leap'd, and anxious thus bespoke the king:
Great perils, father! wait th' unequal fight;
These younger champions will opprefs thy might.

Thy veins no more with ancient vigour glow;
Weak is thy fervant, and thy courfers flow.
Then hafte, afcend my feat, and from the car
Obferve the steeds of Tros, renown'd in war,
Practis'd alike to turn, to stop, to chace,
To dare the fight, or urge the rapid race:
Thefe late obey'd Eneas' guiding rein:
Leave thou thy chariot to our faithful train;
With thefe againft yon Trojans will we go,
Nor fhall great Hector want an equl foe;
Fierce as he is, ev'n he may learn to fear
The thirsty fury of my flying fpear.

125

130

135

140

Thus faid the chief; and Neftor, fkill'd in war, Approves his counfel, and afcends the car. The fteeds he left, their trufty fervants hold;

150

To ftop his courfers, and to ftand the fight; 205
Thrice turn'd the chief, and thrice imperial Jove
On Ida's fummits thunder'd from above:
Great Hector heard; he faw the flashing light,
(The fign of conqueft) and thus urg'd the fight:
Hear, every Trojan, Lycian, Dardan band, 210
All fam'd in war, and dreadful hand to hand.
Be mindful of the wreaths your arms have won,
Your great forefathers' glories, and your own.
Heard ye the voice of Jove? Succefs and fame
Await on Troy, on Greece eternal fhame.
215
In vain they skulk behind their boafted wall,
Weak bulwarks! deftin'd by this arm to fall.
High o'er their flighted trench our steeds fhall
bound;

220

And pafs victorious o'er the level'd mound.
Soon as before yon hollow fhips we ftand,
Fight each with flames, and tofs the blazing
brand;

Till, their proud navy wrapt in fmoke and fires,
All Greece, encompafs'd, in one blaze expires.
Furious he faid; then, bending o'er the yoke,
Encourag'd his proud steeds, while thus he spoke:

225 Now, Xanthus, Athon, Lampus! urge the chace, And, thou, Podargus! prove thy generous race: Be fleet, be fearless, this important day, And all your master's well-spent care repay. For this, high-fed in plenteous ftalls ye ftand, 230

Serv'd with pure wheat, and by a princefs' hand;
For this my fpoufe, of great Aëtion's line,
So oft has steep'd the ftrengthening grain in
wine.

Now fwift purfue, now thunder uncontroul'd;
Give me to feize rich Neftor's fhield of gold; 235
From Tydeus' fhoulders ftrip the coftly load,
Vulcanian arms, the labour of a God:
Thefe if we gain, then victory, ye powers!
This night; this glorious night, the fleet is ours.
That heard, deep anguish ftung Saturnia's foul;