Not fo his lofs the fierce Achilles bore;
But fad retiring to the founding fhore,
O'er the wild margin of the deep he hung,
That kindred deep from whence his mother sprung:
There, bath'd in tears of anger and disdain,
Thus loud lamented to the formy main:

O parent Goddess! fince in early bloom
Thy fon muft fall, by too fevere a doom;
Sure, to fo fhort a race of glory born,
Great Jove in justice should this span adorn:
Honour and fame at least the Thunderer ow'd,
And ill he pays the promise of a God;
If von proud monarch thus thy fon defies,
Obicures my glories, and refumes my prize.
Far from the deep receffes of the main,
Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign,
The Goddefs-mother heard. The waves divide;
And like a mift the role above the tide;
Beheid him mourning on the naked thores,
And thus the forrows of his foul explores.
Why grieves my fon? Thy anguith let me share,
Reveal the caute, and truft a parent's care.

He deeply fighing faid: To tell my woe, Is but to mention what too well you know. From Thebe facred to Apollo's name, (Action's realm) our conquering army came, With treasure loaded and triumphant fpoils, Whofe juft divifion crown'd the foldier's toils: But bright Chryfeïs, heavenly prize! was led, By vote ielected, to the general's bed. The priest of Phoebus fought by gifts to gain His beauteous daughter from the victor's chain; The fleet he reach'd, and lowly bending down, Held forth the fceptre and the laurel crown, Entreating all: but chief implor'd for grace The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race: The generous Greeks their joint confent declare, The prieft to reverence, and release the fair; Not to Atrides: He, with wonted pride, The fire infulted, and his gifts deny'd: The infulted fire (his God's peculiar care) To Phoebus pray'd, and Phoebus heard the prayer: A dreadful plague enfues; th' avenging darts Inceffant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts. A prophet then, infpir'd by Heaven, arose, And points the crime, and thence derives the

woes.

Myself the first th' affembled chiefs incline
Tavert the vengeance of the power divine;
Then rifing in his wrath, the monarch storm'd;
Incens'd be threaten'd, and his threats perform'd :
The fair Chryfeis to her fire was fent,
With offer'd gifts, to make the God relent;
But now he feiz'd Brifeïs heavenly charms,
And of my valour's prize defrauds my arms,
Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train;
And service, faith, and juftice plead in vain.
But, Goddels thon thy fuppliant fon attend,
To high Olympus' fhining court afcend,
Urge all the ties to former service ow'd,
And fue for vengeance to the thundering God.
Oft haft thou triumph'd in the glorious boaft,
That thou food'it forth of all th' æthereal hoft,
When bold rebellion fhook the realms above,
Th' undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove.
When the bright partner of his awful reign,
The warlike maid, and monarch of the main,

The traitor-gods, by mad ambition driven,
Durit threat with chains th' omnipotence of Heaven.
Then call'd by thee, the moniter Titan came,
(Whom Gods Briareus, Men Ægeon name)
Through wondering ikies enormous stalk'd along;
Not he that shakes the folid earth fo ftrong:
With giant-pride at Jove's high throne he itands,
And brandith'd round him all his hundred hands;
Th' affrighted Gods confefs'd their awful lord,
They ropt the tetters, trembled, and ador`d.
This, Goddess, this to his remembrance call,
Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall;
Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train,
To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main,
To heap the shores with copious death, and bring
The Greeks to know the curfe of fuch a king:
Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head
O'er all his wide dominion of the dead,
And mourn in blood, that e'er he durft difgrace
The boldeft warrior of the Grecian race.

Unhappy fon! (fair Thetis thus replies,
While tears celeftial trickle from her eyes)
Why have I borne thee with a mother's throes,
To fates averfe, and nurs'd for future woes?
So fhort a space the light of Heaven to view!
So fhort a space and fill'd with forrow too!
O might a parent's careful wifh prevail,
Far, far from lion fhould thy veffels fail,
And thou, from camps remote, the danger fhun,
Which now, alas! too nearly threats my fon.
Yet (what I can) to move thy fuit I'll go
To great Olympus crown'd with fleecy fnow.
Mean time, fecure within thy fhips, from far
Behold the field, nor mingle in the war.
The fire of Gods and all th' ætherial train,
On the warm limits of the fartheft main,
Now mix with mortals, nor dildain to grace
The feafts of Æthiopia's blameless race;
Twelve days the powers indulge the genial rite,
Returning with the twelfth revolving light.
Then will I mount the brazen dome, and move
The high tribunal of immortal Jove.

The Goddefs fpoke: the rolling waves unclofe; Then down the deep the plung'd from whence the And left him forrowing on the lonely coat, [rote, In wild refentment for the fair he loft.

In Cryfa's port now fage Ulyfles rode; Beneath the deck the deitin'd victims stow'd; The fails they furl'd, they lath'd the mast aside, And dropp'd their anchors, and the pinnace ty'd. Next on the fhore their hecatomb they land, Chryfeïs laft defcending on the ftrand. Her, thus returning from the furrow'd main, Ulyffes led to Phoebus' facred fane; Where at his folemn altar as the maid He gave to Chryfes, thus the Hero faid:

Hail! reverend prince! to Phoebus' awful dome
A fuppliant I from great Atrides come :
Unranfom'd here receive the ipotlefs fair;
Accept the hecatombs the Greeks prepare;
And may thy God, who fcatters darts around,
Aton'd by facrifice, defift to wound.

At this, the fire embrac'd the maid again,
So fadly loft, fo lately fought in vain.
Then near the altar of the darting king,
Difpos'd in rank their hecatomb they bring:
* Neptune,

With water purify their hands, and take
The facred offering of the falted cake;
While thus with arms devoutly rais'd in air,
And folemn voice, the priest directs his prayer:
God of the filver bow, thy ear incline,
Whofe power incircles Cilla the divine;
Whofe facred eye thy Tenedos furveys,
And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguish'd rays!
If, fir'd to vengeance at the prieft's request,
Thy direful darts inflict the raging peft;
Once more attend! avert the wafteful woe,
And fmile propitious, and unbend thy bow.

So Chryfes pray'd, Apollo heard his prayer:
And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare;
Between their horns the falted barley threw,
And with their heads to Heaven the victims flew :
The limbs they fever from th' enclosing hide;
The thighs, felected to the Gods, divide:
On theie, in double cawls involv'd with art,
The choiceft morfels lay from every part.
The priest himself before his altar stands,
And burns the offering with his holy hands;
Pours the black wine, and fees the flames afpire;
The youths with inftruments furround the fire:
The thighs thus facrific'd, and entrails dreft,
Th' afliftants part, transfix, and roast the test:
Then spread the tables, the repaft prepare,
Each takes his feat, and each receives his fhare.
When now the rage of hunger was repreft,
With pure libations they conclude the feaft;
The youths with wine the copious goblets crown'd,
And, pleas'd, difpenfe the flowing bowls around.
With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends,
The Peans lengthen'd till the fun defcends:
The Greeks, reitor'd, the grateful notes prolong;
Apollo fiftens, and approves the fong.

gales,

'Twas night; the chiefs befide their veffel lie, Till rofy morn had purpled o'er the sky: Then launch, and hoift the maft; indulgent Supply by Phoebus, fill the fwelling fails; The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow, The parted ocean foams and roars below: Above the bounding billows swift they flew, Till now the Grecian camp appear'd in view. Far on the beach they haul their bark to land (The crooked keel divides the yellow fand); Then part, where ftreach'd along the winding bay The hips and tents in mingled profpect lay.

But raging ftill, amidst his navy fate
The ftern Achilles, ftedfaft in his hate;
Nor mix'd in combat, nor in council join'd;
But wafting cares lay heavy on his mind:
In his black thoughts revenge and flaughter roll,
And. fcenes of blood rife dreadful in his foul.
Twelve days were past, and now the dawning
light

The Gods had fummon'd to th' Olympian height:
Jove firft afcending from the watery bowers,
Leads the long order of æthereal powers.
When like the morning mift in early day,
Rofe from the flood the Daughter of the Sea;
And to the feats divine her flight addrest.
There, far apart, and high above the reft,
The Thunderer fat; where old Olympus fhrouds
His hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds.
Suppliant the Goddess flood: one hand the plac'd
Beneath his beard, and one his knee embrac'd;

If e'er, O Father of the Gods she said,
My words could pleafe thee, or my actions aid;
Some marks of honour on my fon bestow,
And pay in glory what in life you owe.
Fame is at least by heavenly promife due
To life fo fhort, and now difhonoured too.
Avenge this wrong, oh ever juft and wife!
Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rife ;
Till the proud king, and all the Achaian race,
Shall heap with honours him they now difgrace.

Thus Thetis fpoke, but Jove in filence held
The facred councils of his breast conceal'd.
Not fo repuls'd, the Goddess clofer preft,
Still grafp'd his knees, and urg'd the dear request
O fire of Gods and men! thy fuppliant hear;
Refufe, or grant; for what has Jove to fear?
Or, oh! declare, of all the powers above,
Is wretched Thetis leaft the care of Jove?
She faid, and fighing thus the God replies,
Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted fkies?
What haft thou ask'd? Ah why should Jove en-
In foreign contefts, and domeftic rage, [gage
The Gods complaints, and Juno's fierce alarms,
While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms?
Go, ieft the haughty partner of my fway
With jealous eyes thy close accefs furvey;
But part in peace, fecure thy prayer is iped;
Witness the facred honours of our head,
The nod that ratifies the will divine,
The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable fign,
This feals thy fuit, and this fulfils thy vows----
He spoke, and awful bends his fable brows;
Shakes his ambrofial curls, and gives the nod:
The stamp of fate, and fanction of the God:
High heaven with trembling the dread signal took,
And all Olympus to the centre shook.

Swift to the feas profound the Goddefs flies,
Jove to his ftarry manfion in the skies.
The fhining fynod of th' immortals wait

The coming God, and from their thrones of state
Arifing filent, wrapt in holy fear,

Before the majefty of heaven appear;

Trembling they stand, while Jove affumes the

throne,

All, but the God's imperious queen alone:
Late had the view'd the filver-footed dame,
And all her paffions kindled into flame.
Say, artful manager of heaven (fhe cries)
Who now partakes the fecrets of the skies?
Thy Juno knows not the decrees of fate,
In vain the partner of imperial state.
What favourite Goddets then thofe cares divides,
Which Jove in prudence from his confort hides?"

To this the Thunderer: Seek not thou to find
The facred counfels of Almighty mind:
Involv'd in darkness lies the great decree,
Nor can the depths of fate be pierc'd by thee.
What fits thy knowledge, thou the first fhalt know,
The firft of Gods above, and men below;
But thou, nor they, fhall fearch the thoughts that
Deep in the clofe receffes of my foul.

[roll

Full on the fire the Goddess of the skies Roll'd the large orbs of her majestic eyes, And thus return'd: Auftere Saturnius, fay From whence this wrath, or who controls thy fway? Thy boundlefs will, for me, remains in force, And all thy councils take the deftin'd course.

Of partial Jove with juftice I complain,
And heavenly oracles believ'd in vain.
A fale return was promis'd to our toils,
Renown'd, triumphant, and enrich'd with fpoils.
Now fhameful flight alone can fave the host,
Our blood, our treasure, and our glory lost.
So Jove decrees, refiftlefs lord of all!

At whole command whole empires rife or fall:
He thakes the feeble props of human trust,
And towns and armies humbles to the duft.
What thame to Greece a fruitles war to wage,
Oh, laiting fhame in every future age!
Once great in arms, the common fcorn we grow,
Repuls'd and baffled by a feeble foe:

So imall their number, that if wars were ceas'd,
And Greece triumphant held a general feast,
All rank'd by tens, whole decades when they dine
Muft want a Trojan slave to pour the wine.
But other forces have our hopes o'erthrown,
And Troy prevails by armies not her own.
Now nine long years of mighty Jove are run,
Since firft the labours of this war begun :
Our cordage torn, decay'd our veffels lie,
And scarce enfure the wretched power to fly.
Hafte then, for ever leave the Trojan wall!
Our weeping wives, our tender children call:
Love, duty, fafety, fummon us away,
'Tis nature's voice, and nature we obey.
Our shatter'd barks may yet transport us o'er,
Safe and inglorious, to our native shore.
Fly, Grecians, fly, your fails and oars employ,
And dream no more of Heav'n-defended Troy.
His deep defign unknown, the hofts approve
Atrides' (peech. The mighty numbers move.
So roll the billows to th' Icarian fhore,

From Eaft and South when winds begin to roar,
Burft their dark manfions in the clouds, and sweep
The whitening furface of the ruffled deep,
And as on corn when western gufts defcend,
Before the blaft the lofty harveit bends:
Thus o'er the field the moving hoft appears,
With nodding plumes, and groves of waving
fpears.
[feet
The gathering murmur fpreads, their trampiing
Beat the loote 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 hostile plain,
And fate decreed the fall of Troy in vain;
Bet Jove's imperial queen their flight furvey'd,
And fighing, thus bespoke the blue-ey'd maid:
Shall then the Grecians fly! O dire difgrace!
And leave unpunith'd this perfidious race?
Shall Troy, thall Priam, and th' adulterous fpoufe,
prace enjoy the fruits of broken vows?
And bravett chiefs, in Helen's quarrel flain,
Lie anreveng'd on yon detefted plain?
No: let my Greeks, unmov'd by vain alarms,
Once more refulgent shine in brazen arms.
Haße, Goddess, hafte! the flying host detain,
Nor let ore fail be hoifted on the main.

In

Pallas obeys, and from Olympus' height Swift to the ships precipitates her flight; Lyles, firft in public cares, the found,

For prudent countel like the Gods renown'd:

Opprefs'd with gen'rous grief the hero food,
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 unireed,
Still unreveng'd a thoufand heroes bleed?
Hafte, generous Ithacus! prevent the flame,
Recall your armies, and your chiefs reclaim.
Your own refiftlefs eloquence employ,
And to the immortals truft the fall of Troy.

The voice divine confefs'd the warlike maid,
Ulyffes heard, nor uninspir'd obey'd:
Then meeting firft Atrides, from his hand
Receiv'd th' imperial fceptre of command.
Thus grac'd, attention and relpect 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 praite, or with perfuation mov'd.

Warriors, like you, with ftrength and wiidom By brave examples fhould confirm the reft. [bleft, The monarch's will not yet reveal'd appears; He tries our courage, but reients our tears: Th' unwary Greeks his fury may provoke; Not thus the king in fecret council ipoke. 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 hott 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 sway; His are the laws, and him let all obey.

With words like thefe the troops Ulyffes rul'd,
The loudest filenc'd, and the fiercest cool'd.
Back to th' aflembly roll'd 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:
The groaning banks are burit with bellowing
found,

The rocks remurmur, and the deeps rebound.
At length the tumult finks, the noises ceafe,
And a itill 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 fcandal bufy, in reproaches bold:
With witty malice ftudious to defame:
Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim ;
But chief he glory'd, with licentious ftyle,
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 fhoulders half his breaft o'ertpread
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 fcandal his delight fupreme.
Long had he liv'd the fcorn of every Greek,
Vext when he spoke, yet still they heard him speak