Pitch'd on my head, at length the Lemnian ground
Receiv'd my batter'd fkull, the Sinthians heal'd my
At Vulcan's homely mirth his mother fmil'd, And smiling took the cup the clown had fill'd. The reconciler-bowl went round the board, Which empty'd, the rude fkinker ftill reftor'd. Loud fits of laughter feiz'd the guests, to fee The limping God fo deft at his new ministry. The feast continued till declining light:
They drank, they laugh'd, they lov'd, and then 'twas night.
Nor wanted tuneful harp, nor vocal quire;
The Mufes fung; Apollo touch'd the lyre.
Drunken at laft, and drowsy they depart,
Each to his houfe; adorn'd with labour'd art
Of the lame architect: the thundering God
Ev'n he withdrew to reft, and had his load.
His fwimming head to needful fleep apply'd;
And Juno lay unheeded by his fide.
From the Sixth Book of the ILIAD.
Hector, returning from the field of battle, to visit Helen his fifer-in-law, and his brother Paris, who had fought unfucceffully hand in hand with Menelaus, from thence goes to his own palace to fee his wife Andromache, and bis infant fon Afyanax. The defcription of that interview is the fubject of this tranflation.
THUS having faid, brave Hector went to fee
His virtuous wife, the fair Andromache.
He found her not at home; for fhe was gone,
Attended by her maid and infant fon,
To climb the ftecpy tower of Ilion:
From whence, with heavy heart, fhe might survey
The bloody bufiness of the dreadful day.
Her mournful eyes fhe caft around the plain,
And fought the lord of her defires in vain.
But he, who thought his peopled palace bare,
When the, his only comfort, was not there,
Stood in the gate, and afk'd of every one,
Which way she took, and whither fhe was gone;
If to the court, or, with his mother's train,
In long proceffion to Minerva's fane?
The fervants anfwer'd, Neither to the court,
Where Priam's fons and daughters did refort,
Nor to the temple was the gone, to move
With prayers the blue-ey'd progeny of Jove;
But, more folicitous for him alone,
Than all their fafety, to the tower was gone,
There to furvey the labours of the field,
Where the Greeks conquer, and the Trojans yield;
Swiftly the pafs'd, with fear and fury wild ;
The nurse went lagging after with the child.
This heard, the noble Hector made no stay ;
Th' admiring throng divide, to give him way;
He pafs'd through every street, by which he came,
And at the gate he met the mournful dame.
His wife beheld him, and with eager pace
Flew to his arms, to meet a dear embrace:
His wife, who brought in dower Cilicia's crown,
And, in herself, a greater dower alone :
Aetion's heir, who on the woody plain
Of Hippoplacus did in Thebe reign.
Breathless the flew, with joy and paffion wild
The nurse came lagging after with her child.
The royal babe upon her breast was laid;
Who, like the morning star, his beams display'd.
Scamandrius was his name, which Hector gave,
From that fair flood which Ilion's wall did lave:
But him Aftyanax the Trojans call,
From his great father, who defends the wall.
Hector beheld him with a filent smile :
His tender wife ftood weeping by the while:
Prefs'd in her own, his warlike hand she took,
Then figh'd, and thus prophetically spoke :
Thy dauntless heart (which I foresee too late)
Too daring man, will urge thee to thy fate:
Nor doft thou pity, with a parent's mind,
This helpless orphan, whom thou leav'st behind;
Nor me, th' unhappy partner of thy bed;
Who must in triumph by the Greeks be led :
They seek thy life, and, in unequal fight
With many, will opprefs thy fingle might:
Better it were for miferable me
To die, before the fate which I foresee.
For ah! what comfort can the world bequeath
To Hector's widow, after Hector's death?
Eternal forrow and perpetual tears
Began my youth, and will conclude my years :
I have no parents, friends, nor brothers left;
By ftern Achilles all of life bereft.
Then when the walls of Thebes he overthrew,
His fatal hand my royal father slew;
He flew Action, but despoil'd him not;
Nor in his hate the funeral rites forgot;
Arm'd as he was he sent him whole below,
And reverenc'd thus the manes of his foe:
A tomb he rais'd; the mountain nymphs around
Inclos'd with planted elms the holy ground.
My seven brave brothers in one fatal day
To death's dark mansions took the mournful way;
Slain by the fame Achilles, while they keep
The bellowing oxen and the bleating sheep.
y mother, who the royal fceptre sway'd, Was captive to the cruel victor made,
And hither led; but, hence redeem'd with gold,
Her native country did again behold,
And but beheld: for foon Diana's dart
In an unhappy chace transfix'd her heart.
But thou, my Hector, art thyself alone
My parents, brothers, and my lord in one :
O kill not all my kindred o'er again,
Nor tempt the dangers of the dufty plain;
But in this tower, for our defence, remain.
Thy wife and fon are in thy ruin loft:
This is a husband's and a father's poft.
The Scean gate commands the plains below;
Here marshal all thy foldiers as they go ;
And hence with other hands repel the foe.
By yon wild fig-tree lies their chief ascent,
And thither all their powers are daily bent:
The two Ajaces have I often feen,
And the wrong'd husband of the Spartan queen :
With him his greater brother; and with these
Fierce Diomede and bold Meriones:
Uncertain if by augury or chance,
But by this eafy rise they all advance;
Guard well that pafs, fecure of all befide.
To whom the noble Hector thus reply'd.
That and the rest are in my daily care;
But fhould I fhun the dangers of the war,
With fcorn the Trojans would reward my pains,
And their proud ladies with their fweeping trains.
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