The wounded bird, ere yet she breath'd her last,
With flagging wings alighted on the mast;
The form so pleasing, and the heart so kind, That youthful vigour, and that manly mind, 1040 What toils they shared, what martial works they wrought,
A moment hung, and spread her pinions there,
Then sudden dropp'd, and left her life in air.
From the pleased crowd new peals of thunder rise,
And to the ships brave Merion bears the prize.
To close the funeral games, Achilles last
A massy spear amid the circle placed,
An ample charger of unsullied frame,
With flowers high-wrought, not blacken'd yet by
flame.
For these he bids the heroes prove their art,
Whose dextrous skill directs the flying dart.
Here too great Merion hopes the noble prize;
Nor here disdain'd the king of men to rise.
With joy Pelides saw the honour paid,
Rose to the monarch, and respectful said:
Thee first in virtue, as in power supreme,
O king of nations! all thy Greeks proclaim;
In every martial game thy worth attest,
And know thee both their greatest and their best.
Take then the prize, but let brave Merion bear
This beamy javelin in thy brother's war.
What seas they measured, and what fields they fought:
All pass'd before him in remembrance dear,
Thought follows thought, and tear succeeds to tear.
And now supine, now prone, the hero lay,
Now shifts his side, impatient for the day :
Then starting up, disconsolate he goes
Wide on the lonely beach to vent his woes.
There as the solitary mourner raves,
The ruddy morning rises o'er the waves:
1050 Soon as it rose, his furious steeds he join'd:
The chariot flies, and Hector trails behind.
And thrice, Patroclus! round thy monument
Was Hector dragg'd, then hurried to the tent.
There sleep at last o'ercomes the hero's eyes;
While foul in dust the unhonour'd carcass lies,
But not deserted by the pitying skies:
For Phoebus watch'd it with superior care,
Preserved from gaping wounds and tainting air;
And ignominious as it swept the field,
Spread o'er the sacred corse his golden shield.
All Heaven was moved, and Hermes will'd to go
By stealth to snatch him from the insulting foe:
But Neptune this, and Pallas this denies,
And the unrelenting empress of the skies:
E'er since that day implacable to Troy,
What time young Paris, simple shepherd boy
Won by destructive lust (reward obscene)
Their charms rejected for the Cyprian queen.
But when the tenth celestial morning broke,
To heaven assembled thus Apollo spoke:
Pleased from the hero's lips his praise to hear, 1060
The king to Merion gives the brazen the spear:
But set apart for sacred use, commands
The glittering charger to Talthybius' hands.
The Redemption of the Body of Hector. The gods deliberate about the redemption of Hector's Has Hector tinged with blood of victims slain! Unpitying powers! how oft each holy fane body. Jupiter sends Thetis to Achilles, to dispose him for the restoring of it; and Iris to Priam, to encourage And can ye still his cold remains pursue? him to go in person, and treat for it. The old king, Still grudge his body to the Trojans' view? notwithstanding the remonstrances of his queen. Deny to consort, mother, son and sire, makes ready for the journey, to which he is encour- The last sad honours of a funeral fire? aged by an omen from Jupiter. He sets forth in his Is then the dire Achilles all your care? chariot, with a waggon loaded with presents under That iron heart, inflexibly severe; the charge of Idæus, the herald. Mercury descends in A lion, not a man, who slaughters wide the shape of a young man, and conducts him to the In strength of rage and impotence of pride; pavilion of Achilles. Their conversation on the way. Priam finds Achilles at his table, casts himself at his Who hastes to murder with a savage joy, feet, and begs for the body of his son. Achilles, moved Invades around, and breathes but to destroy. with compassion, grants his request, detains him one Shame is not of his soul; nor understood, night in his tent, and the next morning sends him home The greatest evil and the greatest good. with the body; the Trojans run out to meet him. Still for one loss he rages unresign'd, The lamentations of Andromache, Hecuba, and Helen, Repugnant to the lot of all mankind; To lose a friend, a brother, or a son, Heaven dooms each mortal, and its will is done : Awhile they sorrow, then dismiss their care; Fate gives the wound, and man is born to bear. But this, insatiate, the commission given, By fate exceeds, and tempts the wrath of Heaven: Lo how his rage dishonest drags along Hector's dead earth, insensible of wrong! Brave though he be, yet by no reason awed, He violates the laws of man and God.
with the solemnities of the funeral.
The time of twelve days is employed in this book while the body of Hector lies in the tent of Achilles; and as many more are spent in the truce allowed for his in. terment. The scene is partly in Achilles' camp, and partly in Troy.
Now from the finish'd games the Grecian band
Seek their black ships, and clear the crowded strand:
All, stretch'd at ease, the genial banquet share,
And pleasing slumbers quiet all their care.
Not so Achilles; he to grief resign'd,
His friend's dear image present to his mind,
Takes his sad couch, more unobserved to weep,
Nor tastes the gifts of all-composing sleep.
Restless he roll'd around his weary bed,
And all his soul on his Patroclus fed:
If equal honours by the partial skies
Are doo:n'd both heroes (Juno thus replies,)
If Thetis son must no distinction know,
Then hear, ye gods! the patron of the bow.
But Hector only boasts a mortal claim;
His birth deriving from a mortal dame :
Achilles of your own ethereal race,
10 Springs from a goddess by a man's embrace,
We will, thy son himself the corse restore,
And to his conquest add this glory more.
80 Then hie thee to him, and our mandate bear:
Tell him he tempts the wrath of heaven too far:
Nor let him more (our anger if he dread)
Vent his mad vengeance on the sacred dead:
But yield to ransom and the father's prayer.
The mournful father Iris shall prepare
With gifts to sue, and offer to his hands
Whate'er his honour asks or heart demands.
His word the silver-footed queen attends,
And from Olympus' snowy tops descends.
90 Arrived, she heard the voice of loud lament,
And echoing groans that shook the lofty tent.
His friends prepare the victim, and dispose
Repast unheeded, while he vents his woes;
The goddess seats her by her pensive son,
She press'd his hand, and tender thus begun:
(A goddess by ourself to Peleus given,
A man divine, and chosen friend of Heaven.)
To grace those nuptials from the bright abode,
Yourselves were present; where this minstrel god
(Well pleased to share the feast) amid the quire
Stood proud to hymn, and tune his youthful lyre.
Then thus the Thunderer checks the imperial dame:
Let not thy wrath the court of heaven inflame;
Their merits nor their honours, are the same.
But mine, and every god's peculiar grace,
Hector deserves of all the Trojan race:
Still on our shrines his grateful offerings lay,
(The only honours men to gods can pay :)
Nor ever from our smoking altar ceased
The pure libation and the holy feast.
Howe'er, by stealth to snatch the corse away,
We will not: Thetis guards it night and day.
But haste and summon to our courts above
The azure queen: let her persuasion move
Her furious son from Priam to receive
The proffer'd ransom, and the corse to leave.
He added not; and Iris from the skies
Swift as a whirlwind, on the message flies,
Meteorous the face of ocean sweeps,
Refulgent gliding o'er the sable deeps.
Between where Samos wide his forests spreads,
And rocky Imbrus lifts its pointed heads,
Down plunged the maid (the parted waves re-
sound :)
She plunged, and instant shot the dark profound.
As, bearing death in the fallacious bait,
From the bent angle sinks the leaden weight;
So pass'd the goddess through the closing wave,
Where Thetis sorrow'd in her sacred cave;
There placed amidst her melancholy train
(The blue-hair'd sisters of the sacred main,)
Pensive she sat, revolving fates to come,
And wept her godlike son's approaching doom.
Then thus the goddess of the painted bow;
Arise, O Thetis! from thy seats below:
'Tis Jove that calls. And why (the dame replies)
Calls Jove his Thetis to the hated skies?
Sad object as I am for heavenly sight!
Ah, may my sorrows ever shun the light!
Howe'er be heaven's almighty sire obey'd—
She spake, and veil'd her head in sable shade,
Which flowing long, her graceful person clad;
And forth she paced majestically sad.
Then through the world of waters they repair (The way fair Iris led) to upper air.
The deeps dividing, o'er the coast they rise,
And touch with momentary flight the skies.
There in the lightning's blaze the sire they found,
And all the gods in shining synod round.
Thetis approach'd with anguish in her face
(Minerva rising, gave the mourner place,)
E'en Juno sought her sorrows to console,
And offer'd from her hand the nectar bowl:
She tasted, and resign'd it: then began
The sacred sire of gods and mortal man :
Thou comest, fair Thetis, but with grief o'ercast;
Maternal sorrows; long, ah long to last!
Suffice, we know and we partake thy cares :
But yield to Fate, and hear what Jove declares.
Nine days are past, since all the court above
In Hector's cause have moved the ear of Jove:
"Twas voted, Hermes from his godlike foe
By stealth should bear him, but we will'd not so:
How long, unhappy! shall thy sorrows flow;
And thy heart waste with life-consuming woe:
Mindless of food, or love, whose pleasing reign
Soothes weary life and softens human pain?
100 O snatch the moments yet within thy power;
Not long to live, indulge the amorous hour!
Lo! Jove himself (for Jove's command I bear)
Forbids to tempt the wrath of Heaven too far.
No longer then (his fury if thou dread)
Detain the relics of great Hector dead;
Nor vent on senseless earth thy vengeance vain:
But yield to ransom, and restore the slain.
To whom Achilles: Be the ransom given,
And we submit, since such the will of Heaven.
While thus they communed, from the Olympian
bowers
Jove orders Iris to the Trojan towers.
Haste, winged goddess! to the sacred town,
And urge her monarch to redeem his son;
Alone the Ilian ramparts let him leave,
And bear what stern Achilles may receive:
Alone, for so we will: no Trojan near;
Except, to place the dead with decent care,
Some aged herald, who with gentle hand
May the slow mules and funeral car command.
120 Nor let him death, nor let him danger dread,
Safe through the foe by our protection led:
Him Hermes to Achilles shall convey,
Guard of his life and partner of his way.
Fierce as he is, Achilles' self shall spare
His age, nor touch one venerable hair:
Some thought there must be in a soul so brave,
Some sense of duty, some desire to save.
Then down her bow the winged Iris drives,
And swift at Priam's mournful count arrives;
130 Where the sad sons beside their father's throne
Sate bathed in tears, and answered groan with
And all amidst them lay the hoary sire
(Sad scene of woe!) His face his wrapp'd attire 200
Conceal'd from sight; with frantic hands he spread
A shower of ashes o'er his neck and head.
From room to room his pensive daughters roam;
Whose shricks and clamours fill the vaulted dome.
Mindful of those who, late their pride and joy,
140 Lie pale and breathless round the fields of Troy!
Before the king Jove's messenger appears,
And thus in whispers greets his trembling ears:
Fear not, oh father! no ill news I bear;
From Jove I come, Jove makes thee still his care; 210
For Hector's sake these walls he bids thee leave,
And bear what stern Achilles may receive:
Alone, for so he wills: no Trojan near,
Except, to place the dead with decent care,
Some aged herald, who with gentle hand
May the slow mules and funeral car command.
Nor shalt thou death, nor shalt thou danger dread;
Safe through the foe by his protection led:
Thee Hermes to Pelides shall convey,
Guard of thy life and partner of thy way.
Fierce as he is, Achilles self shall spare
Thy age, nor touch one venerable hair;
Some thought there must be in a soul so brave,
Some sense of duty, some desire to save.
One cold embrace at least may be allowed,
And my last tears flow mingled with his blood! 280-
From forth his open'd stores, this said, he drew
Twelve costly carpets of refulgent hue:
As many vests, as many mantles told,
And twelve fair veils, and garments stiff with gold
Two tripods next, and twice two chargers shine,
With ten pure talents from the richest mine;
And last a large well-labour'd bowl had place
220 (The pledge of treaties once with friendly Thrace.7
Seem'd all too mean the stores he could employ,
For one last look to buy him back to Troy !
Lo! the sad father, frantic with his pain,
Around him furious drives his menial train:
In vain each slave with duteous care attends;
Each office hurts him, and each face offends.
What make ye here, officious crowds? (he cries)
Hence! nor obtrude your anguish on my eyes.
Have ye no griefs at home, to fix you there?
230 Am I the only object of despair?
Am I become my people's common show,
Set up by Jove your spectacle of woe?
No, you must feel him too: yourself must fall;
The same stern god to ruin gives you all :
Nor is great Hector lost by me alone;
Your sole defence, your guardian power, is gone!
I see your blood the fields of Phrygia drown,
I see the ruins of your smoking town!
O send me, gods! ere that sad day shall come,
A willing ghost to Pluto's dreary dome!
He said, and feebly drives his friends away:
The sorrowing friends his frantic rage obey.
Next on his sons his erring fury falls,
Polites, Paris, Agathon, he calls:
His threats Deiphobus and Dius hear,
Hippothoüs Pammon, Helenus the seer,
And generous Antiphon: for yet these nine
Surviv'd, sad relics of his numerous line.
Inglorious sons of an unhappy sire!
250 Why did not all in Hector's cause expire?
She spoke, and vanish'd. Priam bids prepare
His gentle mules, and harness to the car;
There, for the gifts, a polish'd casket lay :
His pious sons the king's command obey.
Then pass'd the monarch to his bridal-room,
Where cedar-beams the lofty roofs perfume,
And where the treasures of his empire lay:
Then call'd his queen, and thus began to say:
Unhappy consort of a king distress'd!
Partake the troubles of thy husband's breast:
I saw descend the messenger of Jove,
Who bids me try Achilles' mind to move;
Forsake these ramparts, and with gifts obtain
The corse of Hector, at yon navy slain.
Tell me thy thought: my heart impels to go
Through hostile camps, and bears me to the foe. 240
The hoary monarch thus: Her piercing cries
Sad Hecuba renews, and then replies.
Ah! whither wanders thy distemper'd mind?
And where the prudence now that awed mankind?
Through Phrygia once, and foreign regions known;
Now all confused, distracted, overthrown!
Singly to pass through hosts of foes! to face
́(O heart of steel!) the murderer of thy race!
To view that deathful eye, and wander o'er
Those hands yet red with Hector's noble gore!
Alas! my lord! he knows not how to spare,
And what his mercy, thy slain sons declare;
So brave! so many fallen! To calm his rage
Vain were thy dignity, and vain thy age.
No-pent in this sad palace, let us give
To grief the wretched days we have to live.
Still, still for Hector let our sorrows flow,
Born to his own and to his parents' woe!
Doom'd from the hour his luckless life begun,
To dogs, to vultures, and to Peleus' son!
Oh! in his dearest blood might I allay
My rage, and these barbarities repay!
For ah! could Hector merit thus, whose breath
Expired not meanly in inactive death?
He pour'd his latest blood in manly fight,
And fell a hero in his country's right.
Wretch that I am! my bravest offspring slain,
You, the disgrace of Priam's house, remain:
Mestor the brave, renown'd in ranks of war,
With Troilus, dreadful on his rushing car,
And last great Hector, more than man divine,
For sure he seem'd not of terrestrial line!
All those relentless Mars untimely slew,
And left me these, a soft and servile crew,
260 Whose days the feast and wanton dance employ
Gluttons and flatterers, the contempt of Troy !
Why teach ye not my rapid wheels to run,
And speed my journey to redeem my son?
The sons their father's wretched age revere,
Forgive his anger, and produce the car.
High on the seat the cabinet they bind :
The new made car, with solid beauty shined;
Box was the yoke, emboss'd with costly pains,
And hung with ringlets to receive the reins;
Seek not to stay me, nor my soul affright
With words of omen, like a bird of night
(Replied, unmoved, the venerable man ;)
"Tis Heaven commands me, and you urge in vain.
Had any mortal voice the injunction laid,
Nor augur, priest, nor seer, had been obey'd.
A present goddess brought the high command;
I saw,
I heard her, and the word shall stand.
I go, ye gods! obedient to your call:
If in yon camp your power have doom'd my fall,
Content-by the same hand let me expire!
Add to the slaughter'd son the wretched sire!
Nine cubits long, the traces swept the ground; These to the chariot's polish'd pole they bound, 271 Then fix'd a ring the running reins to guide
And close beneath the gather'd ends were tied. 340
Next with the gifts (the price of Hector slain)
The sad attendants load the groaning wain:
Last to the yoke the well-matched mules they bring,
(The gift of Mysia to the Trojan king.)
But the fair horses, long his darling care,
Himself received, and harness'd to his car:
Grieved as he was, he not this task denied:
The hoary herald help'd him at his side.
While careful these the gentle coursers join'd,
Sad Hecuba approach'd with anxious mind;
A golden bowl that flow'd with fragrant wine
(Libation destined to the power divine,)
Held in her right, before the steeds she stands,
And thus consigns it to the monarch's hands:
Take this, and pour to Jove: that, safe from harms,
His grace restore thee to our roof and arms.
Since victor of thy fears, and slighting mine,
Heaven or thy soul inspire this bold design
Pray to that God who high on Ida's brow
Surveys thy desolated realms below,
His winged messenger to send from high,
And lead thy way with heavenly augury:
Let the strong sovereign of the plumy race
Tower on the right of yon ethereal space.
That sign beheld, and strengthened from above,
Boldly pursue the journey mark'd by Jove;
But if the God his augury denies,
Suppress thy impulse, nor reject advice.
'Tis just, (said Priam) to the sire above
Go, guard the sire: the observing foe prevent,
And safe conduct him to Achilles' tent.
The god obeys, his golden pinions binds,
350 And mounts incumbent on the wings of winds,
That high, through fields of air, his flight sustain
O'er the wide earth and o'er the boundless main; 420
Then grasps
the wand that causes sleep to fly,
Or in soft slumbers seals the wakeful eye;
Thus arm'd, swift Hermes steers his airy way,
And stops on Hellespont's resounding sea.
A beauteous youth, majestic and divine,
He seem'd; fair offspring of some princely line!
Now twilight veil'd the glaring face of day,
360 And clad the dusky fields in sober grey;
What time the herald and the hoary king
(Their chariots stopping at the silver spring,
That circling Ilus' ancient marble flows,)
Allow'd the mules and steeds a short repose.
Through the dim shade the herald first espies
A man's approach, and thus to Priam cries:
I mark some foe's advance: O king beware;
This hard adventure claims thy utmost care;
For, much I fear, destruction hovers nigh;
370 Our state asks counsel. Is it best to fly?
Or, old and helpless, at his feet to fall,
To raise our hands; for who so good as Jove?
He spoke, and bade the attendant handmaid bring
The purest water of the living spring;
(Her ready hands the ewer and basin held :)
Then took the golden cup his queen had fill'd;
On the mid pavement pours the rosy wine,
Uplifts his eyes, and calls the power divine:
Oh first, and greatest! heaven's imperial lord!
On lofty Ida's holy hill adored!
(Two wretched suppliants,) and for mercy call? 440
The afflicted monarch shivered with despair;
Pale grew his face, and upright stood his hair:
Sunk was his heart; his colour went and came:
A sudden trembling shook his aged frame:
When Hermes, greeting, touch'd his royal hand,
And gently thus accosts with kind demand:
Say whither, father! when each mortal sight
380 Is seal'd in sleep, thou wander'st through the night?
Why roam thy mules and steeds the plains along,
Through Grecian foes, so numerous and so strong?
What couldst thou hope, should these thy treasures
view;
To stern Achilles now direct my ways,
And teach him mercy when a father prays.
If such thy will, despatch from yonder sky
Thy sacred bird, celestial augury!
Let the strong sovereign of the plumy race
Tower on the right of yon ethereal space :
So shall thy suppliant, strengthen'd from above,
Fearless pursue the journey mark'd by Jove.
Jove heard his prayer, and from the throne on high
Despatch'd his bird, celestial augury!
These, who with endless hate thy race pursue?
For what defence, alas! couldst thou provide;
Thyself not young, a weak old man thy guide?
Yet suffer not thy soul to sink with dread;
From me no harm shall touch thy reverend head;
390 From Greece I'll guard thee too; for in those lines
The living image of my father shines.
The swift-wing'd chaser of the feather'd game,
And known to gods by Percnos' lofty name.
Wide as appears some palace-gate display'd,
So broad his pinions stretch'd their ample shade,
As stooping dexter with resounding wings
The imperial bird descends in airy rings.
A dawn of joy in every face appears;
*The mourning matron dries her timorous tears:
Swift on his car the impatient monarch sprung;
The brazen portal in his passage rung.
The mules preceding draw the loaded wain,
Charged with the gifts: Idæus holds the rein:
The king himself his gentle steeds controuls,
And through surrounding friends the chariot rolls.
On his slow wheels the following people wait,
Mourn at each step, and give him up to fate;
With hands uplifted, eye him as he pass'd,
And gaze upon him as they gazed their last.
Now forward fares the father on his way,
Through the lone fields, and back to Ilion they.
Great Jove beheld him as he cross'd the plain,
And felt the woes of miserable man:
Then thus to Hermes: Thou whose constant.cares
Still succour mortals, and attend their prayers;
Behold an object to thy charge consign'd:
If every pity touch'd thee for mankind,
Thy words, that speak benevolence of mind,
Are true, my son! (the godlike sire rejoin'd;)
Great are my hazards: but the gods survey
My steps, and send thee, guardian of my way.
Hail, and be blest! For scarce of mortal kind
Appear thy form, thy feature, and thy mind.
Nor true are all thy words, nor erring wide
(The sacred messenger of heaven replied,)
400 But say, convey'st thou through the lonely plains
What yet most precious of thy store remains,
To lodge in safety with some friendly hand:
Prepared, perchance, to leave thy native land? 470
Or fly'st thou now?-What hopes can Troy retain,
Thy matchless son, her guard and glory, slain?
The king, alarm'd: Say what, and whence thes
Who search the sorrows of a parent's heart,
And know so well how godlike Hector died?
4,10 Thus Priam spoke, and Hermes thus replied:
You tempt me, father, and with pity touch:
On this sad subject you inquire too much.
Oft have these eyes that godlike Hector view'd
In glorious fight, with Grecian blood imbrued: 480
I saw him when, like Jove, his flames he toss'd
On thousand ships, and wither'd half a host:
Isaw, but help'd not: stern Achilles' ire
Forbade assistance, and enjoy'd the fire.
For him I serve, of Myrmidonian race;
One ship convey'd us from our native place;
Polyctor is my sire, an honour'd name,
Old like thyself, and not unknown to fame:
Of seven his sons, by whom the lot was cast
To serve our prince, it fell on me, the last.
To watch this quarter my adventure falls:
For with the morn the Greeks attack your walls:
Sleepless they sit, impatient to engage,
And scarce their rulers check the martial rage.
If then thou art of stern Pelides' train
(The mournful monarch thus rejoin'd again,)
Ah, tell me truly, where, oh! where are laid
My son's dear relics! what befalls him dead?
Have dogs dismember'd (on the naked plains,)
Or yet unmangled rest his cold remains?
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490 (The work of soldiers,) where the hero sate.
Large was the door, whose well-compacted strength
A solid pine-tree barr'd, of wonderous length;
Scarce three strong Greeks could lift its mighty
But great Achilles singly closed the gate.
This Hermes (such the power of gods) set wide;
Then swift alighted the celestial guide,
And thus, reveal'd-Hear, prince! and understand
Thou owest thy guidance to no mortal hand;
500 Hermes I am, descended from above,
The king of arts, the messenger of Jove.
Farewell: to shun Achilles' sight I fly;
Uncommon are such favours of the sky,
Nor stand confess'd to frail mortality.
Now fearless enter, and prefer thy prayers;
Adjure him by his father's silver hairs,
His son, his mother! urge him to bestow
Whatever pity that stern heart can know.
Thus having said, he vanish'd from his eyes,
510 And in a moment shot into the skies;
O favour'd of the skies! (thus answer'd then
The power that mediates between gods and men)
Nor dogs nor vultures have thy Hector rent,
But whole he lies, neglected in the tent;
This the twelfth evening since he rested there,
Untouch'd by worms, untainted by the air.
Still as Aurora's ruddy beam is spread,
Round his friend's tomb Achilles drags the dead:
Yet undisfigured or in limb or face,
All fresh he lies, with every living grace,
Majestical in death! No stains are found
O'er all the corse, and closed is every wound;
Though many a wound they gave. Some heavenly
Some hand divine, preserves him ever fair;
Or all the host of heaven, to whom he led
A life so grateful, still regard him dead.
Thus spoke to Priam the celestial guide,
And joyful thus the royal sire replied:
Blest is the man who pays the gods above
The constant tribute of respect and love;
Those who inhabit the Olympian bower
My son forgot not, in exalted power;
And Heaven, that every virtue bears in mind,
E'en to the ashes of the just is kind.
But thou, O generous youth! this goblet take,
A pledge of gratitude, for Hector's sake;
And while the favouring gods our steps survey,
Safe to Pelides' tent conduct my way.
To whom the latent god: O king, forbear
To tempt my youth, for apt is youth to err:
But can I, absent from my prince's sight,
Take gifts in secret that must shun the light?
What from our master's interest thus we draw,
Is but a licensed theft that 'scapes the law.
Respecting him, my soul abjures the offence;
And as the crime, I dread the consequence.
Thee, far as Argos, pleased I could convey,
Guard of thy life and partner of thy way;
On thee attend, thy safety to maintain,
O'er pathless forests or the roaring main.
He said, then took the chariot at a bound,
And snatch'd the reins, and whirl'd the lash
around:
Before the inspiring god that urged them on,
The coursers fly with spirit not their own.
And now they reach'd the naval walls, and found
The guards repasting, while the bowls go round.
The king, confirm'd from heaven, alighted there,
And left his aged herald on the car;
With solemn pace through various rooms he went,
And found Achilles in his inner tent;
There sate the hero; Alcimus the brave,
And great Automedon, attendance gave;
These served his person at the royal feast:
Around, at awful distance, stood the rest.
Unseen by these, the king his entry made;
And, prostrate now before Achilles laid,
520 Sudden (a venerable sight) appears:
Embraced his knees, and bathed his hands in tears:
Those direful hands his kisses press'd, imbrued
E'en with the best, the dearest of his blood!
As when a wretch (who, conscious of his crime,
Pursued for murder, flies his native clime)
Just gains some frontier, breathless, pale, amazed!
All gaze, all wonder: thus Achilles gazed?
Thus stood the attendants stupid with surprise:
All mute, yet seem to question with their eyes;
530 Each look'd on other, none the silence broke,
Till thus at last the kingly suppliant spoke :
Ah think, thou favour'd of the powers divine,
Think of thy father's age, and pity mine!
In me, that father's reverend image trace,
Those silver hairs, that venerable face;
His trembling limbs, his helpless person, see!
In all my equal but in misery!
Yet now, perhaps, some turn of human fate
Expels him helpless from his peaceful state;
540 Think, from some powerful foe thou see'st him fly
And beg protection with a feeble cry.
Yet still one comfort in his soul may rise:
He hears his son still lives to glad his eyes;
And, hearing, still may hope a better day
May send him thee, to chase that foe away.
No comfort to my griefs, no hopes remain,
The best, the bravest of my sons are slain!
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