His deep defign unknown, the hofts approve Atrides' fpeech. The mighty numbers move. So roll the billows to th' Icarian fhore,
From Eaft and South when winds begin to roar,
Burft their dark mansions in the clouds, and fweep
The whitening surface 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 spears.
The gathering murmur fpreads, their trampling feet
Beat the loofe fands, and thicken to the fleet.
With long-refounding cries they urge the train.
To fit the fhips, and launch into the main.
They toil, they fweat, thick clouds of duft arife,
The doubling clamours echo to the skies.
Ev'n then the Greeks had left the hoftile plain,
And fate decreed the fall of Troy in vain
But Jove's imperial queen their flight furvey'd,
And fighing thus bespoke the blue-ey'd Maid :
Shall then the Grecians fly! O dire disgrace!
And leave unpunish'd this perfidious race?
Shall Troy, fhall Priam, and th' adulterous spouse, 195
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 host 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, fhe found,
For prudent counsel like the Gods renown'd:
Opprefs'd with generous grief the hero stood,
Nor drew his fable veffels 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?
Hafte, generous Ithacus ! prevent the shame,
Recall your armies, and your chiefs reclaim.
Your own refiftlefs eloquence employ,
And to th' Immortals truft the fall of Troy.
The voice divine confefs'd the warlike maid,
Ulyffes heard, nor uninspir'd obey'd:
Then meeting first 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 praife, or with perfuafion mov'd.
Warriours like you, with strength and wisdom bleft,
By brave examples fhould confirm the rest.
The monarch's will not yet reveal'd appears;
He tries our courage, but refents 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, 245 The loudest filenc'd, and the fiercest cool'd. Back to th' affembly roll 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: 250 The groaning banks are burft with bellowing found, The rocks remurmur, and the deeps rebound. At length the tumult finks, the noises cease, And a still 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 scandal bufy, in reproaches bold : With witty malice studious to defame : Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim ; But chief he glory'd, with licentious stile,
To lash 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 shoulders half his breaft o'erfpread, 265
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 scandal his delight fupreme.
Long had he liv'd the scorn of every Greek,
Vext when he spoke, yet still they heard him speak.
Sharp was his voice; which, in the shrillest tone,
Thus with injurious taunts attack'd the throne :
Amidst the glories of fo bright a reign,
What moves the great Atrides to complain?
'Tis thine whate'er the warriour's breast inflames,
The golden fpoil, and thine the lovely dames.
With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow,
Thy tents are crowded, and thy chests o'erflow,
Thus at full ease in heaps of riches roll'd,
What grieves the monarch? Is it thirst of gold ?
Say, fhall we march with our unconquer'd powers,
(The Greeks and I) to Ilion's hoftile towers,
And bring the race of royal bastards here,
For Troy to ransom at a price too dear?
But fafer plunder thy own host supplies;
Say, would't thou feize fome valiant leader's prize?
Or, if thy heart to generous love be led,
Some captive fair, to bless thy kingly bed?
Whate'er our mafter craves, fubmit we muft,
Plagued with his pride, or punish'd for his luft.
Oh women of Achaia! men no more!
Hence let us fly, and let him waste his store
In loves and pleasures on the Phrygian fhore. 295
We may be wanted on fome busy day,
When Hector comes: fo great Achilles may :
From him he forc'd the prize we jointly gave,
From him, the fierce, the fearless, and the brave :
And durft he, as he ought, resent that wrong,
This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long.
Fierce from his feat at this Ulysses springs,
In generous vengeance of the king of kings ;
With indignation sparkling in his eyes,
He views the wretch, and sternly thus replies :
Peace, factious monster, born to vex the state,
With wrangling talents form'd for foul debate:
Curb that impetuous tongue, nor, rashly vain
And fingly mad, afperfe the fovereign reign.
Have we not known thee, slave! of all our host,
The man who acts the least, upbraids the most?
Think not the Greeks to fhameful flight to bring,
Nor let thofe lips profane the name of king.
For our return we trust the heavenly Powers;
Be that their care; to fight like men be ours.
But grant the host with wealth the general load,
Except detraction, what hast thou bestow'd?
Suppofe fome hero fhould his spoils refign,
Art thou that hero, could those spoils be thine?
Gods! let me perish on this hateful shore,
And let these eyes behold my fon no more;
If, on thy next offence, this hand forbear
To strip thofe arms thou ill deserv'st to wear,
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