So did the fire of gods and men fulfil
His ftedfaft purpose, and alınighty will;
What time the haughty chiefs their jars begun,
Atrides, king of men, and Peleus' godlike fon.
What god in ftrife the princes did engage?
Apollo burning with vindictive rage

Against the fcornful king, whose impious pride
His prieft dishonour'd, and his power defy'd.
Hence swift contagion, by the god's commands,
Swept through the camp, and thinn'd the Grecian bands.
For, wealth immenfe the holy Chryfes bore,
(His daughter's ranfom) to the tented shore::
His fceptre ftretching forth, the golden rod,
Hung round with hallow'd garlands of his god,
Of all the hoft, of every princely chief,
But first of Atreus' fons, he begg'd relief:

'Great Atreus' fons and warlike Greeks attend.
So may th' immortal gods your cause befriend,
So may you Priam's lofty bulwarks burn,
And rich in gather'A spoils to Greece return,
As for thefe gifts my daughter you beftow,
And reverence due to great Apollo show,
Jove's favourite offspring. terrible in war,
Who fends his shafts unerring from afar.”
Throughout the host consenting murmurs rife,
The priest to reverence, and give back the prize;
When the great king, incens'd, his filence broke
In words reproachful, and thus sternly spoke :

Hence, dotard, from my fight. Nor ever more Approach, I warn thee, this forbidden fhore;

Left

"Left thou ftretch forth, my fury to restrain,
The wreaths and fceptre of thy god, in vain.
The captive maid I never will resign.
"Till age o'ertakes her, I have vow'd'her mine.
"To distant Argos shall the fair be led :

She fhall; to ply the loom, and grace my bed.
Begone, ere evil intercept thy way.

:

• Hence, on thy life nor urge me by thy stay.' He ended frowning.

Speechlefs and dismay'd,

The aged fire his stern command obey'd.

Silent he pafs'd, amid the deafening roar
Of tumbling billows, on the lonely shore ;
Far from the camp he pafs'd: then fuppliant stood;
And thus the hoary priest invok'd his god :

• Dread warrior with the filver bow, give ear.
• Patron of Chryfa and of Cilla, hear.
To thee the guard'of Tenedos belongs;
Propitious Smintheus! Oh! redress my wrongs.

If e'er within thy fane, with wreaths adorn'd,
The fat of bulls and well-fed goats I burn'd,

O! hear my prayer. Let Greece thy fury know, And with thy fhafts avenge thy fervant's woe.' Apollo heard his injur'd fuppliant's cry. Down rush'd the vengeful warrior from the sky; Across his breaft the glittering bow he flung, And at his back the well-stor'd quiver hung: (His arrows rattled, as he urg'd his flight.) In clouds he flew, conceal'd from mortal fight; Then took his ftand, the well-aim'd fhaft to throw: Fierce fprung the ftring, and twang'd the filver bow.

The dogs and mules his first keen arrow flew;
Amid the ranks the next more fatal flew,
A deathful dart. The funeral piles around
For ever blaz'd on the devoted ground.

Nine days entire, he vex'd th' embattled hoft,
The tenth, Achilles through the winding coaft
Summon'd a council, by the queen's command
Who wields heaven's fceptre in her fnowy hand:
She mourn'd her favourite Greeks, who now inclofe
The hero, fwiftly speaking as he rofe:

What now, O Atreus' fon, remains in view, But o'er the deep our wanderings to renew, Doom'd to deftruction, while our wafted powers

The fword and peftilence at once devours ?

Why hafte we not fome prophet's skill to prove,

Or feek by dreams? (for dreams defcend from Jove.) . What moves Apollo's rage let him explain,

What vow withheld, what hecatomb unflain:
And if the blood of lambs and goats can pay
The price for guilt, and turn this curse away ?'
Thus he. And next the reverend Calchas rofe,
Their guide to Ilion whom the Grecians chofe;
The prince of augurs, whofe enlighten'd eye
Could things past, prefent, and to come, defcry:
Such wifdom Phoebus gave. He thus began,
His fpeech addreffing to the godlike man :

'Me then command' thou, lov'd of Jove, to show What moves the god that bends the dreadful bow? Firft plight thy faith thy ready help to lend,

By words to aid me, or by arms defend.

• For

• For I forefee his rage, whofe ample sway
The Argian powers and fceptred chiefs obey.
The wrath of kings what fubject can oppose?
Deep in their breafts the fmother'd vengeance glows,
Still watchful to deftroy. Swear, valiant youth,
Swear, wilt thou guard me, if I speak the truth?
To this Achilles fwift replics : Be bold.
Difclofe, what Phoebus tells thee, uncontrol'd.
By him, who, liftening to thy powerful prayer,
Reveals the fecret, I devoutly fwear,

That, while these eyes behold the light, no hand • Shall dare to wrong thee on this crowded ftrand. Though now himself he boast and fovereign of the hoft.'

Not Atreus' fon.

The king of men,

Then boldly he.

Nor does the god complain

Of vows withheld, or hecatombs unflain.
Chryfeïs to her awful fire refus'd,

The gifts rejected, and the priest abus'd,

Call down thefe judgments, and for more they call, Juft ready on th' exhaufted camp to fall; Till ranfom-free the damfel is bestow'd, And hecatombs are sent to footh the god, < To Chryfa fent. Perhaps Apollo's rage • The gifts may expiate, and the priest assuage.' He spoke, and fat. When, with an angry frown, The chief of kings upstarted from his throne. Difdain and vengeance in his bofom rife, Lour in his brows, and sparkle in his eyes: Full at the priest their fiery orbs he bent, And all at once his fury found a vent. M 4

Augur

'Augur of ills, (for never good to me • Did that most inauspicious voice decree) • For ever ready to denounce my woes,

• When Greece is punifh'd, I am still the caufe; • And now when Phoebus spreads his plagues abroad, And wastes our camp, 'tis I provoke the god, • Because my blooming captive I detain,

And the large ransom is produc'd in vain. • Fond of the maid, my queen, in beauty's pride, 'Ne'er charm'd me more, a virgin and a bride; 'Not Clytemnestra boasts a nobler race,

A sweeter temper, or a lovelier face,

In works of female skill hath more command,
Or guides the needle with a nicer hand.
Yet fhe fhall go. The fair our peace
shall buy
Better I fuffer, than my people die.

But mark me well. See inftantly prepar'd

A full equivalent, a new reward.

Nor is it meet, while each enjoys his share,

• Your chief should lofe his portion of the war:
In vain your chief; whilst the dear prize, I boast,
Is wrefted from me, and for ever loft.'

To whom the fwift purfuer quick reply'd:

Oh funk in avarice, and fwoln with pride!
How fhall the Greeks, though large of foul they be,
Collect their fever'd spoils, a heap for thee
To fearch anew, and cull the choiceft share
Amid the mighty harveft of the war?

· Then yield thy captive, to the god refign'd,
• Affur'd a tenfold recompence to find,

• When