The Sire fuperior fmil'd; and bade her show What heavenly hand had caus'd his daughter's woe? Abafh'd, the names his own Imperial spouse;) And the pale crefcent fades upon her brows. 601 Thus they above; while fwiftly gliding down, Apollo enters Ilion's facred town:
The Guardian God now trembled for her wall,
And fear'd the Greeks, tho' Fate forbade her fall
Back to Olympus, from the war's alarmis,
Return the fhining bands of Gods in arms;
Some proud in triumph, fome with rage on fire;
And take their thrones around th' ætherial Sire,
Thro' blood, thro' death,Achilles ftill proceeds, 610
O'er flaughter'd heroes, and o'er rolling steeds.
As when avenging flames, with fury driv'n
On guilty towns, exert the wrath of Heaven;
The pale inhabitants, fome fall, fome fly;
And the red vapours purple all the sky:
So rag'd Achilles; death and dire dismay;
And toils, and terrors, fill'd the dreadful day.
High on a turret hoary Priam ftands,
And marks the wafte of his deftructive hands;
Views, from his arm, the Trojan's scatter'd flight,
And the near hero rifing on his fight!
621
No step, no check, no aid! With feeble pace,
And fettled forrow on his aged face,
Faft as he could, he fighing quits the walls;
And thus, defcending, on the guards he calls:
You, to whofe care our city-gates belong,
Set wide your portals to the flying throng:
For lo! he comes with unrefifted fway;
He comes, and defolation marks his way!
But when within the walls our troops take breath,
Lock faft the brazen bars, and fhut out death.
Thus charg'd the reverend monarch: wide were
fung
The opening folds; the founding hinges rung,
Phœbus rufh'd forth, the flying bands to meet;
Struck flaughter back, and cover'd the retreat, 635
On heaps the Trojans crowd to gain the gate,
And, gladfome, fee their laft efcape from Fate.
Thither, all parch'd with thirst, a heartless train,
Hoary with duft, they beat the hollow plain :
And gafping, panting, fainting, labour on 640
With heavier ftrides, that lengthen'd tow'rd the
Enrag'd Achilles follows with his fpear; [town.
Wild with revenge, infatiable of war.
Then had the Greeks eternal praise acquir'd, And Troy inglorious to her walls retir'd; But the, the God who darts ætherial flame, Shot down to fave her, and redeem her fame. To young Agenor force divine he gave (Antenor's offspring, haughty, bold, and brave); In aid of him, befide the beech he fate, And, wrapt in clouds, restrain'd the hand of Fate. When now the generous youth Achilles fpics, Thick beats his heart, the troubled motions rife. (So, ere a storm, the waters heave and roll); He ftops and questions thus his mighty foul: What! fhall I fly this terror of the plain? Like others fly, and be like others flain? Vain hope to fhun him by the felf-fame road, Yon line of flaughter'd Trojans lately trod. No: with the common heap I fcorn to fall-660 What if they pais'd me to the Trojan wall, While I decline to yonder path, that leads 'To Ida's forests and furrounding fhades? † Apollo.
So may I reach, conceal'd, the cooling flood,
From my tir'd body wash the dirt and blood, 665
As foon as night her dufky veil extends,
Return in fafety to my Trojan friends.
What if-But wherefore all this vain debate?
Stand I to doubt, within the reach of Fate?
Ev'n now perhaps, ere yet I turn the wall,
The fierce Achilles fees me, and I fall:
Such is his fwiftnefs 'tis in vain to fly,
And fuch his valour, that who ftands muft die.
Howe'er 'tis better, fighting for the state,
Here, and in public view, to meet my fate. 675
Yet fure he too is mortal! he may feel
(Like all the fons of earth) the force of fleel;
One only foul informs that dreadful frame;
And Jove's fole favour gives him all his fame.
He faid, and food collected in his might: 68e
And all his beating bofom claim'd the fight.
So from fome deep-grown wood a panther starts,
Rous'd from his thicket by a ftorm of darts:
Untaught to fear or fly, he hears the founds [685
Of fhouting hunters, and of clamorous hounds:
Tho' ftruck, tho' wounded scarce perceives the
pain;
And the barb'd javelin ftings his breast in vain:
On their whole war, untam'd the favage flies;
And tears his hunter, or beneath him dies.
Not lefs refolv'd, Antenor's valiant heir
69
Confronts Achilles, and awaits the war,
Difdainful of retreat: high-held before,
His fhield, (a broad circumference) he bore;
Then, graceful, as he ftood in act to throw
The lifted javelin, thus bespoke the foe:
How proud Achilles glories in his fame! And hopes this day to fink the Trojan name Beneath her ruins! Know, that hope is vain ; A thousand woes, a thousand toils, remain. Parents and children our just arms employ, And strong, and many, are the fons of Troy. Great as thou art, ev'n thou may'st stain with gore Thefe Phrygian fields, and prefs a foreign fhore.
He faid: with matchlefs force the javelin flung Smote on his knee; the hollow cuifhes rung 7 Beneath the pointed steel; but safe from harms He ftands impaffive in the ætherial arms. Then, fiercely rushing on the daring foe, His lifted arm prepares the fatal blow: But, jealous of his fame, Apollo fhrouds The godlike Trojan in a veil of clouds. Safe from purfuit, and fhut from mortal view, Difmifs'd with fame the favour'd youth withdrew. Mean while the God, to cover their escape, Affumes Agenor's habit, voice and shape, Flies from the furious chief in this disguise; The furious chief ftill follows where he flies. Now o'er the fields they ftretch with lengthen'd ftrides, [glides: Now urge the courfe where fwift Scamander The God, now diftant fcarce a ftride before, 720 Tempts his purfuit, and wheels about the shore; While all the flying troops their speed employ, And pour on heaps into the walls of Troy: No ftop, no ftay; no thought to afk, or tell, Who fcap'd by flight, or who by battle fell. 725 'Twas tumult all, and violence of flight; And fudden joy confus'd, and mix'd affright: Pale Troy against Achilles fhuts her gate; And nations breathe, deliver'd from their fater
The Trojans being safe within the walls, Hector only flays to oppose Achilles. Priam is fruck at bis approach, and tries to perfuade bis fon to re-enter the town. Hecuba joins ber entreaties, but in vain. Her confults within himself what measures to take; but, at the advance of Achilles, bis refolution fails bim, and he flies : Achilles purfues him thrice round the walls of Troy. The Gods debate concerning the fate of Hector; at length Minerva descends to the aid of Achilles. She deludes Hector in the bape of Deiphobus; be funds the combat, and is flain. Achilles drags the dead body at his chariot, in the fight of Priam and Hecuba. Their lamentations, tears, and defpair. Their cries reach the ears of Andromache, who, ignorant of this, was retired into the inner part of the palace; foe mounts up to the walls, and beholds ber dead husband. Sb-froons at the spectacle. Her excefs of grief and lamentation, The thirtieth day fill continues. The feene lies under the
aus to their bulwarks, fmit with panic fear,
The herded Ilions rufh like driven deer;
There fafe, they wipe their briny drops away,
And drown in bowls the labours of the day.
Close to the walls, advancing o'er the fields
Beneath one roof of well-compacted shields,
March, bending on, the Greek's embodied powers,
Far-ftretching in the fhade of Trojan towers.
Great Hector fingly staid; chain'd down by Fate,
There fixt he stood before the Scæan gate;
Still his bold arms determin'd to employ,'
The guardian still of long-defended Troy.
Apollo now to tir'd Achilles turns
(The Power confeft in all his glory burns).
And what (he cries) has Peleus' fon in view,
With mortal fpeed a Godhead to purfue?
For not to thee to know the Gods is given,
Unfkill'd to trace the latent marks of Heaven.
What boots thee now,
that Troy forfook the plain?
Vain thy pat labour, and thy prefent vain; 20
Safe in their walls are now her troops beftow'd,
While here thy frantic rage attacks a God.
walls and on the battlements of Troy.
He lifts his wither'd arms; obtefts the skies;
He calls his much-lov'd fon with feeble cries;
The fon, refolv'd Achilles' force to dare,
Full at the Scaan gates expeds the war;
While the fad father on the rampart ftands,
And thus adjures him with extended hands:
15 And bloody dogs grow fiercer from thy gore.
How many valiant fons I late enjoy'd,
Valiant in vain! by thy curft arm destroy'd: 60
Or, worse than flaughter'd, fold in distant ifles
To fhameful bondage and unworthy toils.
Two, while I fpeak, my eyes in vain explore,"
Two from one mother fprung, my Polydore,
And lov'd Lycaon; now perhaps no more! 65.
Oh! if in yonder hoftile camp they live,
What heaps of gold, what treasures, would I give!
(Their grandfire's wealth, by right of birth their
The chief incens'd-Too partial God of Day:
To check my conquefts in the middle way:
How few in Ilion elfe had refuge found!
What gafping numbers now had bit the ground!
Thou robb'ft me of a glory justly mine,
Powerful of Godhead, and of fraud divine:
Mean fame, alas! for one of heavenly strain,
To cheat a mortal, who repines in vain.
Then to the city terrible and strong,
With high and haughty steps he tower'd along.
So the proud courfer, victor of the prize,
To the near goal with double ardour flies:
Him, as he blazing foot across the field,
The careful eyes of Priam first beheld.
Not half fo dreadful rifes to the fight,
Through the thick gloom of fome tempeftuous
night,
Confign'd his daughter with Lelegia's throne);
But if (which Heaven forbid) already loft,
All pale they wander on the Stygian coaft,
What forrows then must their fad mother know,
What anguish I! unutterable woe!
Yet less that anguish, lefs to her, to me,
Lefs to all Troy, if not depriv'd of thee.
Yet fhun Achilles! enter yet the wall;
35 And fpare thyfelf, thy father, fpare us all!
Save thy dear life; or, if a foul fo brave
Neglect that thought, thy dearer glory fave.
Pity, while yet I live, thefe filver hairs;
While yet thy father feels the woes he bears,
Yet curft with fenfe! a wretch whom in his rage
(All trembling on the verge of helpless age)
Great Jove has plac'd, fad fpectacle of pain!
The bitter dregs of Fortune's cup to drain :
To fill with fcenes of death his clofing eyes,
And number all his days by miferies!
Orion's dog (the year when autumn weighs)
And o'er the feebler stars exerts his rays;
Terrific glory! for his burning breath
Taints the red air with fevers, plagues, and death.
So flam'd his fiery mail. Then wept the fage;
He ftrikes his reverend head, now white with age;
My heroes flain, my bridal bed o'erturn'd,
My daughters ravish'd, and my city burn'd:
My bleeding infants dash'd against the floor;
Thefe I have yet to fee, perhaps yet more!
Perhaps ev'n I, referv'd by angry Fate
The last fad relick of my ruin'd state
(Dire pomp of fovereign wretchedness! must fall,
And ftain the pavement of my regal hall; 95
Were famifh'd dogs, late guardians of my door,
Shali lick their mangled mafter's fpatter'd gore.
Yet for my fons I thank you, Gods! 'twas well;
Well have, they perifh'd; for in fight they fell.
Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the bett, 100
Struck through with wounds, all honest, on the
But when the Fates, in fulness of their rage,
Spurn the hoar head of unrefifting age,
In duft the reverend lineaments deform,
Or, if I perish, let her fee me fall
In field at least, and fighting for her wall.
And yet, fuppofe thefe mcafures 1 forego,
Approach unarm'd, and parley with the foe, 153
The warrior-hield, the helm, and lance, lay
down,
And treat on terms of peace to fave the town:
The wife withheld, the treasure ill-detain'd,
(Cause of the war, and grievance of the land)
With honourable justice to rettore;
And add half lion's yet remaining store,
Which Troy fhall, fworn, produce; that injur'd
Greece
[prace?
May fhare our wealth, and leave our walls in
But why this thought? Unarm' if I thould go,"
What hope of mercy from this vengeful for, 165
But woman-like to fall, and fall without a
blow?
And pour to dogs the life-blood fcarcely warm; 105 We greet not here as man converfing man,
This, this is mifery! the laft, the worst,
That man can feel; man, fated to be curft!
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He faid; and, acting what no words could fay,
Rent from his head the filver locks away.
With him the mournful mother bears a part;
Yet all their forrows turn not Hector's heart:
The zone unbrac'd, her bosom she display'd;
And thus, faft-falling the falt tears, she said:
Have mercy on me, O my fon! revere,
The words of age; attend a parent's prayer!
If ever thee in thefe fond arms I preft,
Or ftill'd thy infant clamours at this breaft;
Ah, do not thus our helpless years forego,
But, by our walls fecur'd, repel the foe,
Against his rage if fingly thou proceed,
Should't thou (but Heaven avert it!) fhould't
thou bleed,
Nor must thy corpfe lie honour'd on the bier,
Nor spouse, nor mother, grace thee with a tear;
Far from our piqus rites, thofe dear remains
Muft feaft the vultures on the naked plains. 125
So they; while down their checks the torrents
roll:
But fix'd remains the purpose of his foul;
Refolv'd he ftands; and with a fiery glance
Expects the hero's terrible advance.
So, roll'd up in his den, the swelling (nake
Beholds the traveller approach the brake:
When, fed with noxious herbs, his turgid veins
Have gather'd half the poifons of the plains;
He burns, he ftiffens with collected ire,
And his red eye-balls glare with living fire.
Beneath a turret, on his fhield reclin'd,
He stood; and question'd thus his mighty mind:
Where lies my way? To enter in the wall?
Honour and shame th' ungenerous thought recall?
Shall proud Polydamas before the gare
Proclaim, his councils are obey'd too late;
Which timely follow'd but the former night,
What numbers had been fav'd by Hector's flight!
That wife advice rejected with difdain,
I feel my folly in my people flain.
Methinks my fuffering country's voice I hear,
But most, her worthlefs fons infult my ear;
On my rafh courage charge the chance of war,
And blame thofe virtues which they cannot share.
No-if 1 e'er return, return I must
Glorious, my country's terror laid in duft :
Met at an oak, or journeying o'er a plain;
No feafon now for calm familiar talk,
Like youths and maidens in an evening walk: 170
War is our business; but to whom is given
To die or triumph, that determine Heaven!
Thus pondering, like a God the Greck drew nigh;
His dreadful plumage nodded from on high;
The Pelian javelin, in his better hand,
Shot trembling rays, that glitter'd o'er the land;
And on his breast the beamy fplendor thone
Like Jove's own lightning, or the rifing fun :
As H&tor fees, unufual terrors rife,
Struck y fome God, he fears, recedes, and flies: 180
He leaves the gates, he leaves the walls behind:
Achilles follows like the winged wind.
Thus at the panting dove a falcon flies
(The fwifteft racer of the liquid ikies)
Juft when he holds, or thinks he holds, his prey, 185
Obliquely wheeling through th' aerial way,
With open beak and thrilling cries he fprings,
And aims his claws, and thoots upon his wings.
No lefs-fore-right the rapid chafe they held,
One urg'd by fury, one by fear impell'd;
༡༠
Now circling round the walls their courfe maintam,
Where the high watch-tower overlooks the plain;
Now where the fig-trees fpread their umblage
broad
(A wider compafs) fmoke along the road.
Nex by Scamander's double fource they bound, 195
Where two fam'd fountains burt the parted ground;
This hot through fcorching clefts is feen to rife,
With exhalations fteaming to the skies;
That the green banks in funumer's heat o'erflows,
Like crystal clear, and cold as winter (nows.
Each gufhing fount a marble ciftern fills,
Whofe polith'd bed receives the falling rills;
Where Trojan dames (ere yet alarm'd by Greece)
Wafh'd their fair garments in the days of peace.
By these they país'd, one chafing, one in flight 205
The mighty fied, pursued by stronger might).
Swift was the courfe; no vulgar prize they play,
No vulgar victim muft reward the day
(Such as in races crown the speedy ftrife).
The prize contended was great Hector's life. 210
As when fome hero's funerals are decreed,
In grateful honour of the mighty dead;
Where high rewards the vigorous youth inflame
(Some golden tripod or some lovely dame);
The panting courfers fwiftly turn the goal, 215
And with them turns the rais'd spectators' foul :
Thus three times round the Trojan wall they fly;
The gazing Gods lean forward from the sky:
To whom, while eager on the chace they look,
The Sire of mortals and immortals spoke : 220
Unworthy fight! the man belov'd of Heaven,
Behold, inglorious round yon city driven !
My heart partakes the generous Hector's pain;
Hector, whofe zeal whole hecatonībs has fláin, [225]
Whole grateful fumes the Gods receiv'd with joy,
From Ida's fummits, and the towers of Troy':
Now fee him flying! to his fears refign'd,
And Fate, and fierce Achilles, clofe behind.
Confult, ye Powers! ('tis worthy your debate)
Whether to fnatch him from impending fats, 230
Or let him bear, by ftern Pelides flain
(Good as he is) the lot impos'd on man.
Then Pallas thus: Shall he whofe vengeance forms
The forky bolt, and blackens Heaven with forms,
Shall he prolong one Trojan's forfeit breath! 235
A man, a mortal, pre-ordain'd to death!
And will no murmurs fill the courts above?
No Gods indignant blame their partial Jove?
Go then (return'd the Sire) without delay,
Exert thy will; I give the Fates their way.
Swift, at the mandate pleas'd, Tritonia flies,
And floops impetuous from the cleaving skics.
As through the foreft, o'er the vale and lawn,
The well-breath'd beagle drives the flying fawn;
In vain he tries the covert of the brakes, 245
Or deep beneath the trembling thicket shakes;
Sure of the vapour in the tainted dews,
The certain hound his various maze purfues.
Thus, ftep by step, where'er the Trojan wheel'd,
There fwift Achilles compaf'd round the field.
Oft as to reach the Dardan gates he bends,
And hopes th' afhance of his pitying friends,
(Whole thowering arrows, as he cours'd below,
From the high turrets might oppress the foe)
So oft Achilles turns him to the plain:
He eyes the city, but he eyes in vain.
As men in fluniber feem with speedy pace
One to purine, and one to lead the chace,
Their finking limba the fancy'd courfe forfake,
Nor this can fly, nor that can overtake:
No lefs the labouring heroes pant and strain;
While that bus flics, and this purfues, in vain.
What God, O Mule! affifted Hector's force,
With Fate itfelf fo long to hold the course?
Phobus it was; who, in his latest hour,
Endued his knees with strength, his nerves with
power:
And great Achilles, left fome Greeks advance
Should fnatch the glory from his lifted lance,
Sign'd to the troops to yield his foe the way,
And leave untouch'd the honours of the day. 270
Jove lifts the golden balances, that show
The fates of mortal men, and things below:
Here each contending hero's lot he tries,
And weighs, with equal hand, their deftinies.
Low finks the fcale, furcharg'd with Hector's fate;
Heavy with death it finks, and hell receives the
weight.
Then Phoebus left him. Fierce Minerva flies To ftern Pelides, and triumphing cries
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Oh, lov'd of Jove! this day our labours cease,
And conqueft blazes with full beams on Greece. 280
Great Hector falls; that Hedor fam'd fo far,
Drunk with renown, infatiable of war,
Falls by thy hand, and mine! nor force nor flight
Shall more avail him, nor his God of Light.
See, where in vain he fupplicates above,
Roll'd at the feet of unrelenting Jove!
Reft here: myfelf will lead the Trojan on,
And urge to meet the fate he cannot shun.
Her voice divine the chief with joyful mind
Obey'd; and refled, on his lance, reclin'd. 200
While like Diphobus the martial Dame
(Her face, her gefture, and her arms, the fame)
In fhow and aid, by hapless Hector's fide
Approach'd, and greets him thus with voice bely'd:
Too long, O Hedor, have I borne the fight 295
Of this diftrefs, and forrow'd in thy flight:
It fits us now a noble stand to make,
And here, as brothers, equal fates partake.
Then he: O prince! ally'd in blood and fame, Dearer than all that own a brother's name ; 300 Of all that Hecuba to Priam bore,
Long try'd, long lov'd; much lov'd, but honour'd more!
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Since you, of all your rumerous race, alone
Defend my life, regardless of your own.
Again the Goddefs: Much my father's prayer,
And much my mother's, preft me to forbear:
My friends embrac'd my knees, adjur'd my flay,
But ftronger love impell'd, and I obey.
Come then, the glorious conflict let us try,
Let the feel fparkle, and the javelin fly:
Or let us ftretch Achilles on the field,
Or to his arm our bloody trophies yield.
Fraudful the faid; then fwiftly march'd before;
The Dardan hero fhuns his foe no more.
Sternly they met. The filence Hector broke; 315
His dreadful pluniage nodded as he spoke :
Enough, O fon of Peleus! Troy has view'd Her walls thrice circled, and her chief purfued. But now fome God within me bids me try Thine, or my fare: I kill thee, or I die, Yet on the verge of battle let us stay, And for a moment's fpace fufpend the day; Let Heaven's high powers be call'd to arbitrate The juft conditions of this ftern debate. (Eternal witneffes of all below,
And faithful guardians of the treafur'd vow!)
To them I fwear; if, victor in the strife,
Jove by thefe hands fhall fhed thy noble life,
No vile difhonour fhall thy corpfe purfue;
Stript of its arms alone (the conqueror's due) 330
The reft to Greece uninjur'd I'll restore:
Now plight thy mutual oath, I ask no more.
Talk not of oaths (the dreadful chief replies,
While anger flafa'd from his difdainful eyes)
Detested as thou art, and ought to be,
Nor oath nor pact Achilles plights with thee:
Such pacts as lambs and rapid wolves combine,
Such leagues as men and furious lions join,
To fuch I call the Gods! one constant state
Of lafting rancour and eternal hate;
No thought but rage and never-ceafing ftrife,
Till death extinguish rage, and thought, and life.
Roufe then thy forces this important hour,
Golleet thy foul, and call forth all thy power,
No farther fubterfage, no farther chance ;
'Tis Pallas, Pallas gives thee to my lance.
Each Grecian ghoft by thee depriv'd of breath
Now hovers round, and calls thee to thy death. 350
He fpeke, and launch'd his javelin at the foe;
But Hector fhunn'd the meditated blow:
He ftoop'd, while o'er his head the flying spear
Sung innocent, and spent its force in air.
Minerva watch'd it falling on the land,
Then drew, and gave to great Achilles' hand,
Unfeen of Hector, who, elate with joy, [Troy.
Now fhakes his lance, and braves the dread of
The life you boafted to that javelin given,
Prince! you have mifs'd. My fate depends on
Heaven.
360
To thee, prefumptuous as thou art, unknown
Or what must prove my fortune, or thy own.
Beafting is but an art, our fears to blind,
And with falfe terror fink another's mind.
But know, whatever fate I am to try,
By no difhoneft wound shall Hector die;
I fall not fall a fugitive at leaft;
My foul fhall bravely iffue from my breast.
But first try thou my arm; and may this dart
End all my country's woes, deep buried in thy
heart!
The weapon flew, its course unerring held;
Unerring, but the heavenly shield repell'd
The mortal dart; refulting with a bound
From off the ringing orb, it ftruck the ground.
Hector beheld his javelin fall in vain,
Nor other lance nor other hope remain;
Gave entrance through that penetrable part -
Furious he drove the well-directed dart :
Nor pierc'd the wind-pipe yet, nor took the power
Of Speech, unhappy! from thy dying hour.
Prone on the field the bleeding warrior lies, 415
While thus, triumphing, ftern Achilles cries:
At laft is Hector ftretch'd upon the plains,
Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus flain :
Then, prince! you should have fear'd, what now
you feel;
Achilles abfent, was Achilles still.
Yet a fhort pace the great avenger ftay'd,
Then low in duft thy ftrength and glory laid.
Peaceful he fleeps, with all our rites adorn'd,
For ever honour'd, and for ever mourn'd:
While, caft to all the rage of hoftile power, 425
Thee, birds fhall mangle, and the dogs devour.
Then He&tor, fainting at th' approach of death;
By thy own foul! by thofe who gave thee breath!
365 Ey all the facred prevalence of prayer;
Ah, leave me not for Grecian dogs to tear! 430
The common rites of fepulture beflow,
To foothe a father's and a mother's woe;
Let their large gifts procure an urn at least,
And Hector's afhes in his country rest.
He calls Deiphobus, demands a spear,
In vain, for no Deïphobus was there.
All comfortless he ftands: then, with a figh,
Tis fo-Heaven wills it, and my hour is nigh! 380
I deem'd Deïphobus had heard my call,
But he fecure lies guarded in the wall.
A God deceiv'd me; Pallas, 'twas thy deed,
Death, and black Fate, approach! 'tis I muft bleed,
No refuge now, no fuccour from above, 385
Great Jove deferts me, and the fon of Jove,
Propitious once, and kind! then welcome Fate!
"Tis true I perish, yet I perifh great:
Yet in a mighty deed I fhall expire,
Let future ages hear it, and admire!
No, wretch accurft! relentless he replies, 435 (Flames, as he fpoke, fhot flafhing from his eyes) Not thofe who gave me breath fhould bid me fpare Nor all the facred prevalence of prayer. Could I myself the bloody banquet join! No-to the dogs that carcafe I refign. Should Troy, to bribe me, bring forth all her store, And, giving thousands, offer thousands more; Should Dardan Priam, and his weeping dame, Drain their whole realm to buy one funeral flame; Their Hector on the pile they fhould not fee, 445 Nor rob the vultures of one limb of thee.
Then thus the chief his dying accents drew : Thy rage, implacable! too well I knew: The Furies that relentless breast have steel'd, And curft thee with a heart that cannot yield. 450 Yet think, a day will come, when Fate's decree And angry Gods fhall wreak this wrong on thee; Phœbus and Paris fhall avenge my fate, And stretch thee here, before this Scaan gate. He ceas'd. The Fates fuppreft his labouring breath,
And his eyes ftiffen'd at the hand of death; To the dark realm the spirit wings its way (The manly body left a load of clay) And plaintive glides along the dreary coaft, A naked, wandering, melancholy ghost! Achilles, mufing, as he roll'd his eyes O'er the dead hero, thus (unheard) replies: Die thou the first! When Jove and Heaven ordain, 4c0I follow thee-He said, and ftripp'd the flain.
Fierce, at the word, his weighty fword he drew, And, all collected, on Achilles flew. So Jove's bold bird, high balanc'd in the air, Stoops from the clouds to trufs the quivering hare. Nor lefs Achilles his fierce foul prepares; Before his breast the flaming fhield he bears, Refulgent orb above his fourfold cone The gilded horse-hair sparkled in the fun, Nodding at every step: (Vulcanian frame!) And, as he mov'd, his figure feem'd on flame. As radiant Hefper fhines with keener light, Far-beaming o'er the filver host of night, When all the starry train emblaze the sphere: So fhone the point of great Achilles' fpear. In his right hand he waves the weapon round, 405 Eyes the whole man, and meditates the wound: But the rich mail Patroclus lately wore, Securely cas'd the warrior's body o'er; One place at length he fpies, to let in Fate, Where 'twixt the neck and throat the jointed
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