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"Merciless war this devaftation wrought,
My age's comfort, and his country's prop ;
“Hector, my darling, and my last defence,
“Rich gifts I bring, and wealth, an endless fum;
"I can no equal have in miferies;
"Of all mankind moft wretched and forlorn,
"Bow'd with fuch weight as never has been borne;
With gifts, to court mine and my country's bane, "And kifs thofe hands which have my children flain." He fpake..
Now fadnefs o'er Achilles' face appears,
But paffion different ways Achilles turns,
HECUBA, ANDROMACHE, AND HELEN,
DEAD BODY OF HECTOR,
Tranflated from the Greek of Homer, Iliad w.
Beginning at this Line,
Ἠὼς δὲ κροκόπεπλΘ- ἐκίδναλο πᾶσαν ἐπ ̓ αἶαν.
Connection of this with the former Tranflation. Priam, at laft, moves Achilles to compaffion, and, after having made him prefents of great value, obtains the body of his fon. Mercury awakens Priam early in the orning, and advises him to haste away with the body, Agamemnon fhould be informed of his being in camp: he himself helps to harness the mules and es, and conveys him fafely, and without noife,
chariot and all, from among the Grecian tents; then flies up to heaven, leaving Priam and Idæus to travel on with the body toward Troy.
OW did the faffron morn her beams difplay,
N Gilding the face of univerfal day;
When mourning Priam to the town return'd;
At which, her boundless grief loud cries began,
"If e'er you went with joy, to fe him come
"What once was all your joy, now all your mifery!"
She spake, and ftrait the numerous crowd obey'd,
In forrow they no moderation knew,
There ftrove the rolling wheels to hold, while each
Trojans, enough; truce with your forrows make; "Give way to me, and yield the chariot room: "Firft let me bear my Hector's body home,
"Then mourn your fill." At this the crowd gave way, Yielding, like waves of a divided fea.
Idæus to the palace drove, then laid
Of univerfal mournful Harmony,
When firft Andromache her paffion broke,
my loft husband! let me ever mourn
Why is my heart thus miferably torn Why am I thus diftrefs'd! why thus forlorn! Am I that wretched thing a widow left? Why do I live, who am of thee bereft! Yet I were bleft, were I alone undone; Alas, my child! where can an infant run? Unhappy orphan! thou in woes art nurs'd; Why were you born? I am with bleffings curs'd! For long ere thou fhall be to manhood grown, Wide desolation will lay waste this town: Who is there now that can protection give, Since he, who was her ftrength, no more doth live? Who of her reverend matrons will have care? Who fave her children from the rage of war? For he to all father and husband was,
And all are orphans now, and widows, by his lofs.
By Hector's hand, on him will vent his rage,
Biting that ground, with which their blood was ftain'd.
And never did his foes in battle spare;