Laocoon, Neptune's priest, upon the day
Devoted to that god, a bull did slay.
When two prodigious ferpents were defcry'd,
Whofe circling firokes the fea's fmooth face divide;
Above the deep they raise their scaly crefts,
And ftem the flood with their erected breasts,
Their winding tails advance, and steer their courfe,
And 'gainst the fhore the breaking billows force.
Now landing, from their brandish'd tongues there
A dreadful hifs, and from their eyes flame.
Amaz'd we fly; directly in a line
Laocoon they pursue, and first entwine
(Each preying upon one) his tender fons;
Then him, who armed to their refcue runs,
They feiz'd, and with entangling folds embrac'd,
His neck twice compafling, and twice his waist:
Their poffonous knots he strives to break and tear,
While flime and blood his facred wreaths befmear;
Then loudly roars, as when th' enraged bull
From th' altar flies, and from his wounded fkull
Shakes the huge ax; the conquering ferpents fly
To cruel Pallas' altar, and there lie
Under her feet, within her shield's extent.
We, in our fears, conclude this fate was fent
Juftly on him, who ftruck the facred oak
With his accurfed lance. Then to invoke
The goddefs, and let in the fatal horse,
We all confent.
A fpacious breach we make, and Troy's proud wall,
Built by the gods, by her own hands doth fall; Thus, all their help to their own ruin give,
Some draw with cords, and fome the monfter drive
With rolls and levers: thus our works it climbs,
Big with our fate; the youth with fongs and
rhimes,
Some dance, fome hale the rope; at last let down
It enters with a thundering noise the town.
Oh Troy, the feat of gods, in war renown'd!
Three times it ftruck, as oft the clashing found
Of arms was heard, yet blinded by the power
Of fate, we place it in the facred tower.
Caffandra then foretels th' event, but she
Finds no belief (such was the gods' decree.)
The altars with fresh flowers we crown, and waste
In feafts that day, which was (alas!) our last.
Now by the revolution of the fkies,
Night's fable fhadows from the ocean rife,
Which heaven and earth, and the Greek frauds
involv'd,
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The city in fecure repofe diffolv'd,
When from the admiral's high poop appears
A light, by which the Argive fquadron fteers
Their filent courfe to Ilium's well-known fhore,
When Sinon (fav'd by the gods' partial power)
Opens the horse, and through the unlockt doors
To the free air the armed freight restores:
Ulyffes, Stheneleus, Tifander, flide
Down by a rope, Machaon was their guide;
Atrides, Pyrrhus, Thoas, Athamas,
And Epeus, who the fraud's contriver was:
The gates they feize; the guards, with fleep and
wine
Oppreft, furprize, and then their forces join.
"Twas then, when the firft fweets of fleep repair Our bodies spent with toil, our minds with care; (The gods' beft gift) when, bath'd in tears and blood,
Before my face lamenting Hector ftood,
His afpect fuch when foil'd with bloody duft,
Dragg'd by the cords which through his feet were
thrust
By his infulting foe; O how transform'd,
How much unlike that Hector, who return'd
Clad in Achilles' fpoils; when he, among
A thousand ships, (like Jove) his lightning flung!
His horrid beard and knotted treffes flood
Stiff with his gore, and all his wounds ran blood:
Intranc'd I lay, then (weeping) said, the joy,
The hope and stay of thy declining Troy;
What region held thee, whence, to much defir'd,
Art thou reftor'd to us confum'd and tir'd
With toils and deaths; but what fad caufe con-
founds
Thy once fair looks, or why appear thofe wounds?
Regardless of my words, he no reply
Returns, but with a dreadful groan doth cry,
Fly from the flame, O goddess-born, our walls
The Greeks poffefs, and Troy confonnded falls
From all her glories; if it might have stood
By any power, by this right hand it should.
What man could do, by me for Troy was done,
'Take here her reliques and her gods, to run
With them thy fate, with them new walls ex-
pect,
Which, toft on feas, thou fhalt at laft erect:
Then brings old Vefta from her facred quire,
Her holy wreaths and her eternal fire.
Meanwhile the walls with doubtful cries refound
From far (for fhady coverts did furround
My father's houfe); approaching still more near
The clafh of arms, and voice of men we hear :
Rouz'd from my bed, I fpeedily afcend
The houfes toys, and liftening there attend.
As flames roi'd by the winds confpiring force,
O'er full-ear'd corn, or torrents raging course
Bears down th' oppofing oaks, the fields deftroys,
And mocks the plough-man's toil, th' unlook'd-
for noife
Frorn neighbouring hills th' amaz'd fhepherd hears;
Such my furprize, and fuch their rage appears.
First fell thy houfe, Ucalegon, then thine
Deiphobus, Sigaan feas did fhine
Bright with Troy's flames; the trumpets dreadful found
'The louder groans of dying men confound;
Give me my arms, I cry'd, refolv'd to throw
Myfelf 'mong any that oppos'd the foe.
Rage, anger, and despair at once fuggeft,
That of all deaths, to die in arms was beft.
The first I met was Pantheus, Phoebus' priest,
Who 'fcaping with his gods and reliques fled,
And towards the fhore his little grandchild led;
Pantheus, what hope remains? what force, what"
Made good? but fighing, he replies, Alas!
Trojans we were, and mighty Ilium was;
But the laft period, and the fatal hour
Of Troy is come: our glory and our power
Incenfed Jove transfers to Grecian hands;
The foe within the burning town commands;
And (like a fmother'd fire) an unfeen force
Breaks from the bowels of the fatal horfe :
Infulting Sinon flings about the flame,
And thousands more than e'er from Argos came
Poffefs the gates, the paffes, and the streets,
And these the fword o'ertakes, and those it meets.
The guard nor fights nor flies; their fate fo near
At once fufpends their courage and their fear.
Thus by the gods, and by Atrides' words
Infpir'd, I make my way through fire, through
Where noifes, tumults, outcries and alarms,
I heard; first Iphitus, renown'd for arms,
Te meet, who knew us (for the moon did fhine); Then Ripheus, Hypanis, and Dymas join
Then of his arms Androgeus he divests,
His fword, his fhield he takes and plumed crefts,
Then Ripheus, Dymas, and the rest, all glad
Of the occafion, in frefh fpoils are clad.
Thus mixt with Greeks, as if their fortune ftill
Follow'd their fwords, we fight, purfue, and kill.
Some re-afcend the horse, and he whofe fides
Let forth the valiant, now the coward hides.
Some to their fafer guard, their fhips retire:
But vain's that hope, 'gainst which the gods con
spire;
Behold the royal virgin, the divine
Caffandra, from Minerva's fatal fheine
Dragg'd by the hair, cafting towards heaven, in
Her eyes; for cords her tender hands did strain;
Chorobus, at the spectacle enrag'd,
g'd,
Their force, and young Chorobus, Mygdon's fon, Flies in amidit the foes; we thus engag
Who, by the love of fair Caffandra won,
Arriv'd but lately in her father's aid;
Unhappy whom the threats could not diffuade
Of his prophetic fpoufe;
Whom when I faw, yet daring to maintain
The fight, 1 faid, Brave spirits (but in vain)
Are you refolv'd to follow one who dares
Tempt all extremes? the ftate of our affairs
You fee: the gods have left us, by whofe aid
Our empire ftood; nor can the flame be faid:
Then let us fall amidst our foes; this one
Relief the vanquifh'd have, to hope for none.
Then reinforc'd, as in a formy night
Wolves urged by their raging appetite
Forage for prey, which their neglected young
With greedy jaws expect, ev'n fo among
Foes, fire, and fwords, t' affured death we país,
Darknefs our guide, despair our leader was.
Who can relate that evening's woes and spoils,
Or can his tears propertion to our toils?
The city, which fo long had flourish'd, falls;
Death triumphs o'er the houses, temples, walls.
Nor only on the Trojans fell this doom,
Their hearts at laft the vanquish'd re-affume;
And now the victors fall: on all fides fears,
Groans and pale death in all her fhapes appears:
Androgeus firfl with his whole troop was caft
Upon us, with civility mifplac'd;
Thus greeting us, You lofe, by your delay,
Your hare, both of the honour and the prey;
Others the fpoils of burning Troy convey
Back to thofe fhips, which you but now forfake.
We making no return; his fad miftake
Too late he finds: as when an unfeen fnake
A traveller's unwary foot hath preft,
Who trembling starts, when the inake's azure crest
Swoln with his rifing anger, he efpies,
So from our view furpriz'd Androgeus flies.
But here an eafy victory we meet :
Fer binds their hands, and ignorance their feet.
Whilft fortune our firft enterprize did aid,
Encourag'd with fuccefs, Chorebus faid,
O friends, we now by better fates are led,
And in the fair path they lead us, let us tread.
First change your arms, and their diftinctions
bear;
The fame, in focs, deceit and virtue arc.
To fecond him, among the thickest ran;
Here first our ruin from our friends began,
Who from the temple's battlements a shower
Of darts and arrows on our heads did pour:
They us for Greeks, and now the Greeks (whe
knew
Caffandra's refcue) us for Trojans flew.
Then from all parts Ulyffes, Ajax then,
And then th' Atride, rally all their men;
As winds that meet from feveral coafts, conteft,
Their prifons being broke, the fouth and wett,
And Lurus on his winged courses born,
Triumphing in their speed, the woods are torn,
And chafing Nereus with his trident throws
The billows from the bottom; then all thofe
Who in the dark our fury did escape,
Returning, know our borrow'd arms, and shape,
And differing dialect: then their numbers fwell
And grow upon us; first Chorœbus fell
Before Minerva's altar, next did bleed
Juft Ripheus, whom no Trojan did exceed
In virtue, yet the gods his fate decreed.
Then Hypanis and Dymas, wounded by
Their friends; nor thee, Pantheus, thy piety,
Nor confecrated mitre, from the fame
Ill fate could fave; my country's funeral flame
And Troy's cold afhes I atteft, and call
To witnefs for myfelf, that in their fall
No foes, no death, nor danger, I declin'd,
Did, and deferv'd no lefs, my fate to find.
Now Iphitus with me, and Pelias
Slowly retire; the one retarded was
By feeble age, the other by a wound;
To court the cry directs us, where we found
Th' affault fo hot, as if 'twere only there,
And all the reft fecure from foes or fear:
The Greeks the gates approach'd, their targets
caft
Over their heads, fome fealing-ladders plac'd
Against the walls, the reft the fteps afcend,
And with their fhields on their left arms defend
Arrows and darts, and with their right hold faft
The battlement; on them the Trojans caft
Stones, rafters, pillars, beams; fuch arms as these
Now hopeless, for their last defence they seize.
The gilded roofs, the marks of ancient state,
They tumble down; and now against the gate
Of th' inner court their growing force they bring
Now was our laft effort to fave the king,
Relieve the fainting, and fucceed the dead.
A private gallery 'twixt th' apartments led,
Not to the foe yet known, or not obferv'd
(The way for Hector's hapless wife referv'd,
When to the aged king, her little fon
She would prefent); through this we pass, and run
Up to the higheft battlement, from whence
The Trojans threw their darts without offence,
A tower so high, it seem'd to reach the sky,
Stood on the roof, from whence we could defery
All Ilium-both the camps, the Grecian fleet;
This where the beams upon the columns meet,
We loofen, which like thunder from the cloud
Breaks on their heads, as fudden and as loud.
But others ftill fucceed: meantime, nor tones
Nor any kind of weapons cease
| There ftood an altar open to the view
Of heaven, near which an aged laurel grew,
Whofe fhady arms the household gods embrac'd;
Before whofe feet the queen herself had caft
With all her daughters, and the Trojan wives,
As doves whom an approaching tempeft drives
And frights into one fiock; but having spy'd
Old Priam clad in youthful arms, fhe cried,
Alas, my wretched husband, what pretence
To bear thofe arms, and in them what defence?
Such aid fuch times require not, when again
If Hector were alive, he liv'd in vain;
Or here we fhall a fanctuary find,
Before the gate in gilded armour shone
Young Pyrrhus, like a fnake, his skin new grown,
Who fed on poisonous herbs all winter lay
Under the ground, and now reviews the day
Fresh in his new apparel, proud and young,
Rolls up his back, and brandishes his tongue,
And lifts his fcaly breaft against the fun;
With him his father's squire, Automedon,
And Periphas who drove his winged steeds,
Enter the court; whom all the youth fucceeds
Of Scyros' ifle, who flaming firebrands flung
Up to the roof, Pyrrhus himself among
The foremost with an axe an entrance hews
Through beams of folid oak, then freely views
The chambers, galleries, and rooms of state,
Where Priam and the ancient monarchs fate.
At the firft gate an armed guard appears;
But th' inner court with horror, noife, and tears,
Confus'dly fill'd the women's fhrieks and cries
The arched vaults re-echo to the skies;
Sad matrons wandering through the fpacious rooms
Embrace and kifs the pofts: then Pyrrhus comes
Full of his father, neither men nor walls
His force fuftain, the torn port-cullis falls,
Then from the hinge their ftrokes the gates divorce,
And where the way they cannot find, they force.
Not with fuch rage a fwelling torrent flows
Above his banks, th' oppofing dams o'erthrows,
Depopulates the fields, the cattle, sheep,
Shepherds and folds, the foaming furges sweep.
And now between two fad extremes I stood,
Here Pyrrhus and th' Atridæ drunk with blood,
There th' hapless queen amongst an hundred
dames,
AndPriam quenching from his wounds thosefiames
Which his own hands had on the altar laid;
Then they the fecret cabinets invade,
Where stood the fifty nuptial beds, the hopes
Of that great race; the golden posts, whose tops
Old hoftile spoils adorn'd, demolish'd lay,
Or to the foe, or to the fire a prey.
Now Priam's fate perhaps you may enquire:
Seeing his empire loft, his Troy on fire,
And his own palace by the Greeks poffeft,
Arms long difus'd his trembling limbs invest;
Thus on his foes he throws himself alone,
Not for their fate, but to provoke his own:
Vol. II.
Or as in life we shall in death be join'd.
Then weeping, with kind force held and embrac'd,
And on the facred fea the king the plac'd.
Meanwhile Polites, one of Priam's fons,
Flying the rage of bloody Pyrrhus, runs
Through foes and fwords, and ranges all the court
And empty galleries, amaz'd and hurt;
Pyrrhus pursues him, now o'ertakes, now kills,
And his laft blood in Priam's prefence fpills.
The king (though him fo many deaths inclofe)
Nor fear, nor grief, but indignation shows;
The gods requite thee (if within the care
Of thofe above th' affairs of mortals are)
Whofe fury on the fon but loft had been,
Had not his parents' eyes his murder seen :
Not that Achilles (whom thou feign'ft to be
Thy father) fo inhuman was to me;
He blufht, when I the rights of arms implor'd,
To me my Hector, me to Troy restor❜d:
This faid, his feeble arm a javelin flung,
Which on the founding fhield, fcarce entering
Then Pyrrhus; Go a meffenger to hell
Of my black deeds, and to my father tell
The acts of his degenerate race. So through
His fon's warm blood the trembling king he
drew
To th' altar; in his hair one hand he wreaths;
His fword the other in his bofom fheaths.
Thus fell the king, who yet furviv'd the state,
With fuch a fignal and peculiar fate,
Under fo vaft a ruin, not a grave,
Nor in fuch flames a funeral fire to have:
He whom fuch titles fwell'd, fuch power made
proud,
To whom the fceptres of all Afia bow'd,
On the cold earth lies th' unregarded king,
A headless carcafe, and a nameless thing.
As chemifts gold from brafs by fire would draw, Though mighty raptures we in Homer find,
Pretexts are into treafon forg'd by law.
His wifdom fuch, at once it did appear
'Three kingdoms wonder, and three kingdoms fear;
While fingle he ftood forth, and feem'd, although
Each had an army, as an equal foe.
Such was his force of eloquence, to make
The hearers more concern'd than he that spake;
Each feem'd to act that part he came to fee,
And none was more a looker-on than he;
So did he move our paffions, fome were known
To wifh, for the defence, the crime their own.
Now private pity ftrove with public hate,
Reafon with rage, and eloquence with fate:
Now they could him, if he could them forgive;
He's not too guilty, but too wife to live;
Lefs feem thofe facts which treafon's nick-name
bore,
Yet, like himself, his characters were blind:
Virgil's fublimed eyes not only gaz'd,
But his fublimed thoughts to Heaven were rais'd.
Who reads the honours which he paid the gods, 21
Would think he had beheld their bleft abodes;
And, that his hero might accomplish'd be,
From divine blood he draws his pedigree.
From that great judge your judgment takes its law,
And by the best original does draw
Bonduca's honour, with thofe heroes Time
Had in oblivion wrapt, his faucy crime;
To them and to your nation you are just,
In raising up their glories from the duft;
And to Old England you that right have done,
To fhew, no ftory nobler than her own.
Than fuch a fear'd ability for more.
They after death their fears of him exprefs,
His innocence and their own guilt confefs.
Their legiflative frenzy they repent:
Enacting it should make no precedent.
This fate he could have 'fcap'd, but would not lose
Honour for life, but rather nobly chofe
Death from their fears, than safety from his own,
That his last action all the reft might crown.
TO A PERSON OF HONOUR,
ON HIS INCOMPARABLE FOEM".
HENRY LORD HASTINGS. 1650.
READER, preferve thy peace; thofe bufy eyes
Will weep at their own fad difcoveries;
When every line they add improves thy lofs,
Till, having view'd the whole, they fum a cross;
Such as derides thy paflions' best relief,
And fcorns the fuccours of thy cafy grief
Yet, left thy ignorance betray thy name
Of man and pious, read and mourn: the fhame
Of an exemption, from just sense, doth fhew
HAT mighty gale hath rais'd a flight fo Irrational, beyond excefs of woe.
So high above all vulgar eyes? fo long?
One fingle rapture fcarce itfelf confines
Within the limits of four thousand lines:
And yet I hope to fee this noble heat
Continue, till it makes the piece compleat,
That to the latter age it may defcend,
And to the end of time its beams extend.
When poefy joins profit with delight,
Her, images fhould be most exquifite,
Since man to that perfection cannot rife,
Of always virtuous, fortunate, and wife;
Therefore the patterns man fhould imitate
Above the life our mafters fhould create.
Herein, if we confult with Greece and Rome,
Grecce (as in war) by Rome was overcome;
Since reason, then, can privilege a tear,
Manhood, uncenfur'd, pay that tribute here,
Upon this noble urn. Here, here remains
Duft far more precious than in India's veins :
Within these cold embraces, ravifh'd, lies
That which compleats the age's tyrannies:
Who weak to fuch another ill appear,
For what deftroys our hope, fecures our fear.
What fin unexpiated, in this land
10 Of groans, hath guided fo severe a hand?
The late great victim that your altars knew,
Ye angry gods, might have excus'd this new
Oblation, and have fpar'd one lofty light
Of virtue, to inform our steps aright;
By whofe example good, condemned we
Might have run on to kinder destiny.
But, as the leader of the herd fell firft
A facrifice, to quench the raging thirst
Of inflam'd vengeance for paft crimes; fo none
But this white-fatted youngling could atone, 39
By his untimely fate, that impious smoke,
That fullied earth, and did Heaven's pity choak.
Let it fuffice for us, that we have loft
In him, more than the widow'd world can boaft
In any lump of her remaining clay.
Fair as the grey-ey'd morn he was: the day,
35
Youthful and climbing upwards still, imparts
No hatte like that of his increasing parts;
• The Honourable Edward Howard, by his pocm called "The British Princes," engaged the attention of by far the most eminent of his contemporaries; who played upon his vanity, as the Wits of half a century before had done on that of Thomas Ceryat, by writing extravagant compliments on his works. See Butler's, Waller's, Sprat's, and Dorfet's verfes, in their refpective volumes; and in the "Sele& Collection of Mifcellaneous Poems, 1780," vol. iii. p. 105, are other verfes on the fame fubject by Martin Clifford, and the Lord Vaughan. N.
And just where you left him, you find him.
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