The limbs they sever from th' enclosing hide;
The thighs, selected to the gods, divide:
On these, in double cawls involv'd with art,
The choicest morsels lay from every part.
The priest himself before his altar stands,
And burns the offering with his holy hands;
Pours the black wine, and sees the flames aspire;
The youth with instruments surround the fire:
The thighs thus sacrific'd, and entrails drest,
Th' assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest:
Then spread the tables, the repast prepare,
Each takes his seat, and each receives his share.
When now the rage of hunger was represt,
With pure libations they conclude the feast;
The youths with wine the copious goblets crown'd,
And, pleas'd, dispense the flowing bowls around.
With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends,
The Paans lengthen'd till the Sun descends.
The Greeks, restor d, the grateful notes prolong;
Apollo listens, and approves the song.

'Twas night; the chiefs beside their vessel lie,
Till rosy Morn had purpled o'er the sky:
Then lanch, and hoist the mast; indulgent gales,
Supply'd by Phœbus, fill the swelling sails;
The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow,
The parted ocean foams and roars below;
Above the bounding billows swift they flew,
Till now the Grecian camp appear'd in view.
Far on the beach they haul their bark to land
(The crooked keel divides the yellow sand);
Then part, where stretch'd along the winding bay
The ships and tents in mingled prospect lay.

But raging still, amidst his navy sate The stern Achilles, stedfast in his hate; Nor mix'd in combat, nor in council join'd; But wasting cares lay heavy on his mind: In his black thoughts revenge and slaughter roll, And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his soul.

Twelve days were past, and now the dawning fight The gods had summon'd to th' Olympian height: Jove first ascending froin the watery bowers, Leads the long order of ethereal powers. When, like the morning mist in early day, Rose from the flood the daughter of the sea; And to the seats divine her flight addrest. There, far apart, and high above the rest, The thunderer sat; where old Olympus shrouds His hundred heads in Heaven, and props the clouds. Suppliant the goddess stood: one hand she plac'd Beneath his beard, and one his knce embrac'd: "If e'er, O father of the gods!" she said, "My words could please thee, or my actions aid; Some marks of honour on my son bestow, And pay in glory what in life you owe. Fame is at least by heavenly promise due To life so short, and now dishonour'd too. Avenge this wrong, oh, ever just and wise! Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rise; Till the proud king, and the Achaian race, Shall heap with honours him they now disgrace.” Thus Thetis spoke, but Jove in silence held The sacred councils of his breast conceal'd. Not so repuls'd, the goddess closer prest, Still grasp'd his knees, and urg`d the de ar request : "O sire of gods and men! thy suppliant hear; Refuse, or grant; for what has Jove to fear? Or, oh! declare, of all the powers above,, Is wretched Thetis least the care of Jove

She said, and sighing thus the god replies, Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted skies:

"What hast thou ask'd? Ah, why should Jove In foreign contests, and domestic rage, [engage The gods' complaints, and Juno's fierce alarms, While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arins ? Go, lest the haughty partner of my sway, With jealous eyes, thy close access survey; But part in peace, secure thy prayer is sped: Wit..ess the sacred honours of our head, The nod that ratifies the will divine, The faithful, fix'd irrevocable sign, This seals thy suit, and this fulfils thy vows-" He spoke, and awful bends his sable brows; Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod; The stamp of fate, and sanctio of the god: High Heaven with trembling the dread signal took, And all Olympus to the centre shook.

Swift to the seas profound the goddess flies,
Jove to his starry mansion in the skies.
The shining synod of th' immortals wait
The coming god, and from their thrones of state
Arising silent, wrapt in holy far,

Before the majesty of Heaven appear,
Trembling they stand, while Jove assumes the throne,
All, but the god's imperious queen alone:
Late had she view'd the silver footed dame,
And all her passions kindled into flame.

66

Say, artful manager of Heaven," she cries, "Who now partakes the secrets of the skies? Thy Juno knows not the decrees of fate, In vain the partner of imperial state. What favourite goddess then those cares divides, Which Jove in prudence from his consort hides?" To this the thunderer: "Seek not thou to find The sacred counsels of almighty mind: Involv'd in darkness lies the great decree, Nor can the depths of fate be pierc'd by thee. What fits thy knowledge, thou the first shait know The first of gods above and men below; But thou nor they, shall search the thoughts that roll Deep in the close recesses of my soul."

Full on the sire the goddess of the skies. Roll'd the large orbs of her majestic eyes, And thus return'd: "Austere Saturnius, say From whence this wrath, or who controls thy sway? Thy boundless will for me remains, in force, And all thy councils take the destin'd course. But 'tis for Greece I fear: for late was seen In close consult the silver-footed queen. Jove to his Thetis nothing could deny, Nor was the signal vain that shook the sky. What fatal faveur has the goddess won, To grace her fierce, inexorable son? Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench the plain, And glut his vengeance with my people slain."

Then thus the god: "Ob restless fate of pride, That strives to learn what Heaven resolves to hide; Vain is the search, presumptuous and abhorr'd, Anxious to thee, and odious to thy lord. Let this suffice; th' immutable decree No force can shake: what is, that ought to be. Goddess submit, nor dare our will withstand, But dread the power of this avenging hand; Th' united strength of all the gods above In vain resists th' omnipotence of Jove."

The thunderer spoke, nor durst the queen reply; A reverend borrour silenc'd all the sky. The feast disturb'd, with sorrow Vulcan saw His mother menac'd, and the gods in awe; Peace at his heart, and pleasure his design, Thus interpos'd the architect divine:

Th' embroider'd sandals on his feet were tied;
The starry falchion glitter'd at his side;
And last his arm the massy sceptre loads,
Unstain'd, immortal, and the gift of gods.
Now rosy Morn ascends the court of Jove,
Lifts up her light, and opens day above.
The king dispatch'd his heralds with commands
To range the camp, and summon all the bands:
The gathering hosts the monarch's word obey;
While to the fleet Atrides bends his way.
In his black ship the Pylian prince he found;
There calls a senate of the peers around;
Th' assembly plac'd, the king of men exprest
The counsels labouring in his artful breast;
"Friends and confederates! with attentive ear
Receive my words, and credit what you hear.
Late as I slumber'd in the shades of night,
A dream divine appear'd before my sight;
Whose visionary form like Nestor came,
The same in habit and in mien the same.
The heavenly phantom hover'd o'er my head,
'And, dost thou sleep, Oh, Atreus' son?' (he said)
Il fits a chief who mighty nations guides,
Directs in council, and in war presides,
To whom its safety a whole people owes;
To waste long night in indolent repose.
Monarch, awake! 'tis Jove's command I bear,
Thou and thy glory claim his heavenly care.
In just array draw forth th' embattled train,
And lead the Grecians to the dusty plain;
Ev'n now, O king! 'tis given thee to destroy
The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy.
For now no more the gods with fate contend;
At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall,
And nodding lion waits th' impending fall.
This hear observant, and the gods obey!'
The vision spoke, and past in air away.
Now, valiant chiefs! since Heaven itself alarms!
Unite, and rouse the sons of Greece to arms.
But first, with caution try what yet they dare,
Worn with nine years of unsuccessful war!
To move the troops to measure back the main,
Be mine; and your's the province to detain."

Soon as the throngs in order rang'd appear,
And fainter murmurs dy'd upon the ear,
The king of kings his awful figure rais'd;
High in his hand the golden sceptre blaz'd :
The golden sceptre, of celestial frame,

By Vulcan form'd, from Jove to Hermes came:
To Pelops he th' immortal gift resign'd;
Th' immortal gift great Pelops left behind,
In Atreus' hand, which not with Atreus ends,
To rich Thyestes next the prize descends :
And now the mark of Agamemnon's reign,
Subjects all Argos, and controls the main.

On this bright sceptre now the king reclin'd,
And artful thus pronounc'd the speech design'd;
"Ye sons of Mars! partake your leader's care,
Heroes of Greece, and brothers of the war!
Of partial Jove with justice I complain,
And heavenly oracles believ'd in vain.
A safe return was promis'd to our toils,
Renown, triumphant, and eurich'd with spoils.
Now shameful flight alone can save the host,
Our blood, our treasure, and our glory lost.
So Jove decrees, resistless lord of all !
At whose command whole empires rise or fall:
He shakes the feeble props of human trust,
And towns and armies humbles to the dust.
What shame to Greece a fruitless war to wage,
Oh, lasting shame in every future age!
Once great in arms, the common scorn we grow,
Repuls'd and baffled by a feeble foe:

So small their number, that if wars were ceas'd,
And Greece triumphant held a general feast,
All rank'd by tens, whole decads when they dine
Must want a Trojan slave to pour the wine.
But other forces have our hopes o'erthrown,
And Troy prevails by armies not her own.
Now nine long years of mighty Jove are run,
Since first the labours of this war begun :
Our cordage toru, decay'd our vessels lie,
And scarce ensure the wretched power to fly.
Haste then, for ever leave the Trojan wall!
Our weeping wives, our tender children call:
Love, duty, safety, summon us away,
'Tis nature's voice, and nature we obey.
Our shatter'd barks may yet transport us o'er,
Safe and inglorious, to our native shore.
Fly, Grecians, fly, your sails and oars employ,
And dream no more of heaven-defended Troy.'

His deep design unknown, the hosts approve Atrides' speech. The mighty numbers move. So roll the billows to th' learian shore, From east and south when winds begin to roar, Burst their dark mansions in the clouds, and sweep The whitening surface of the ruffled deep, And as on corn when western gusts descend, Before the blast the lofty harvest bends: Thus o'er the field the moving host appears, With nodding plumes, and groves of waving spears The gathering murmur spreads, their trampling feet Beat the loose sands, and thicken to the fleet. With long-resounding cries they urge the train To fit the ships, and lanch into the main. They toil, they sweat, thick clouds of dust arise, The doubling clamours echo to the skies. Ev'n then the Greeks had left the hostile plain, And fate decreed the fall of Troy in vain; But Jove's imperial queen their flight survey'd, And sighing, thus bespoke the blue-ey'd maid: "Shall then the Grecians fly! O dire disgrace! And leave unpunish'd this perfidious race?

Shall Troy, shall Priam, and th' adulterous spouse,
In peace enjoy the fruits of broken vows
And bravest chiefs, in Helen's quarrel slain,
Lie unreveng'd on yon detested plain?
No: let my Greeks, unmov'd by vain alarms,
Once more refulgent shine in brazen arms.
Haste, goddess, haste! the flying host detain,
Nor let one sail be hoisted on the main."

Pallas obeys, and from Olympus' height
Swift to the ships precipitates her flight;
Ulysses, first in public cares, she found,
For prudent counsel like the gods renown'd;
Oppress'd with gen'rous grief the hero stood,
Nor drew his sable vessels to the flood.
"And is it thus, divine Laërtes' son!
Thus fly the Greeks" (the martial maid begun)
Thus to their country bear their own disgrace,
And fame eternal leave to Priam's race?
Shall beauteous Helen still remain unfreed,
Still unreveng'd a thousand heroes bleed?
Histe, generous Ithacus ! prevent the shame,
Recall your armies, and your chiefs reclaim.
Your own resistless eloquence employ,-
And to the immortals trust the fall of Troy."
The voice divine confess'd the warlike maid,
Ulysses beard, nor uninspir'd obey'd:
Then meeting first Atrides, from his hand
Receiv'd th' imperial sceptre of command.
Thus grac'd, attention and respect to gain,
He runs, he flies, through all the Grecian train,
Each prince of name, or chief in arms approv'd,
He fir'd with praise, or with persuasion mov'd.
"Warriors, like you, with strength and wisdom
blest,

By brave examples should confirm the rest.
The monarch's will not yet reveal'd appears,
He tries our courage, but resents our fears:
Th' unwary Greeks his fury may provoke;
Not thus the king in secret council spoke.
Jove loves our chief, from Jove his honour springs,
Beware! for dreadful is the wrath of kings."

But if a clamorous vile plebeian rose,
Him with reproof he check'd, or tam'd with blows.
Be still, thou slave, and to thy betters yield;
“Unknown alike in council and in field!
Ye gods, what dastards would our host command,
Swept to the war, the lumber of a land!
Be silent, wretch, and think not here allow'd
That worst of tyrants, an usurping crowd:
To one sole monarch Jove commits the sway;
His are the laws, and him let all obey."

With words like these the troops Ulysses rul'd, The loudest silenc'd, and the fiercest cool'd. Back to th' assembly roll'd the thronging train, Desert the ships, and pour upon the plain. Mermuring they move, as when old Ocean roars, And heaves huge surges to the trembling shores: The groaning banks are burst with bellowing

sound,

The rocks remurmur, and the deeps rebound.
At length the tumult sinks, the noises cease,
And a still silence lulls the camp to peace;
Thersites only clamour'd in the throng,
Loquacious, loud, and turbulent of tongue:
Aw'd by no shame, by no respects control'd,
I scandal busy, in reproaches bold;
With witty malice studious to defame:
Sorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim;
by chief he glory'd, with licentious style,
To lash the great, and monarchs to revile.

His figure such as might his soul proclaim;
One eye was blinking, and one leg was lame;
His mountain shoulders half his breast o'erspread,
Thin hairs bestrew'd his long misshapen head.
Spleen to mankind his envious heart possest,
And much he hated all, but most the best.
Ulysses or Achilles still his theme;
But royal scandal his delight supreme.
Long had he liv'd the scorn of every Greek,
Vext when he spoke, yet still they heard him

speak.

Sharp was his voice, which, in the shrillest tone,
Thus with injurious taunts attack'd the throne:
Amidst the glories of so bright a reign,
What moves the great Atrides to complain?
'Tis thine whate'er the warrior's breast inflames,
The golden spoil, and thine the lovely dames.
With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow,
Thy tents are crowded, and thy chests o'erflow,
Thus at full ease in heaps of riches roll'd,
What grieves the monarch? Is it thirst of gold?
Say, shall we march with our unconquer'd powers,
(The Greeks and I) to Ilion's hostile towers,
And bring the race of royal bastards here,
For Troy to ransom at a price too dear?
But safer plunder thy own host supplies;
Say would'st thou seize some valiant leader's prize?
Or, if thy heart to generous love be led,
Some captive fair, to bless thy kingly bed?
Whate'er our master craves, submit we must,
Plagued with his pride, or punish'd for his lust.
Oh women of Achaia! men no more!
Hence let us fly, and let him waste his store
In loves and pleasures on the Phrygian shore;
We may be wanted on some busy day,
When Hector comes: so great Achilles may :
From him he forc'd the prize we jointly gave,
From him, the fierce, the fearless, and the brave:
And durst he, as he ought, resent that wrong,
This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long."
Fierce from his seat at this Ulysses springs,
In generous vengeance of the king of kings:
With indignation sparkling in his eyes,
He views the wretch, and sternly thus replies:

"Peace, factious monster, born to vex the state,
With wrangling talents form'd for foul debate:
Curb that impetuous tongue, nor, rashly vain
And singly mad, asperse the sovereign reign.
Have we not known thee, slave of all our host,
The man who acts the least, unbraids the most?
Think not the Greeks to shameful flight to bring,
Nor let those lips profane the name of king.
For our return we trust the heavenly powers;
Be that their care; to fight like men be ours.
But grant the host with wealth the general load,
Except detraction, what hast thou bestow'd?
Suppose some hero should his spoils resign,
Art thou that hero, could those spoils be thine?
Gods! let me perish on this hateful shore,
And let these eyes behold my son no more,
If, on thy next offence, this hand forbear
To strip those arms thou ill deserv'st to wear,
Expel the council where our princes meet,
And send thee scourg'd and howling thro' the fleet."
He said, and cowering as the dastard bends,
The weighty sceptre on his back descends:
On the round bunch the bloody tumours rise;
The tears spring starting from his haggard eyes:
Trembling he sat, and, shrunk in abject fears,
From his wild visage wip'd the scalding tears.