300

Stern in superior grief Pelides stood;
Those slaughtering arms so used to bathe in blood,
Now clasp'd his clay cold limbs: then gushing start
The tears, and sighs borsts from his swelling heart.
The lion thus, with dreadful anguish stung, 371
Roars through the desert, and demands his young;
When the grim savage, to his rifled den
Too late returning, suuffs the track of men,
And o'er the vales and o'er the forest bounds:
His clamorous grief the bellowing wood resounds.
So grieves Achilles; and impetuous vents,
310 To all his Myrmidons, his loud laments.

In what vain promise, gods! did I engage,
When, to console Menœtias' feeble age,
I vow'd his much-loved offspring to restore,
Charged with rich spoils, to fair Opuntia's shore?
But mighty Jove cuts short, with just disdain,
The long, long views of poor, designing man!
One fate the warrior and the friend sball strike,
And Troy's black sands must drink our blood
alike:

320 Me too, a wretched mother shall deplore,
An aged father never see me more!
Yet my Patroclus! yet a space I stay,
Then swift pursue thee on the darksome way.
Ere thy dear relics in the grave are laid,
Shall Hector's head be offer'd to thy shade;

In free debate, my friends, your sentence speak;
For me, I move, before the morning break,
To raise our camp: too dangerous here our post,
Far from Troy walls, and on a naked coast.
I deem'd not Greece so dreadful, while engaged
In mutual feuds, her king and hero raged;
Then, while we hoped our armies might prevail,
We boldly camp'd beside a thousand sail.
I dread Pelides now: his rage of mind
Not long continues to the shores confined,
Nor to the fields, where long in equal fray
Contending nations won and lost the day;
For Troy, for Troy, shall henceforth be the strife,
And the hard contest not for fame, but life.
Haste then to Ilion, while the favouring night
Detains those terrors, keeps that arm from fight;
If but the morrow's sun behold us here,
That arm, those terrors, we shall feel, not fear;
And hearts that now disdain, shall leap with joy,
If heaven permit them then to enter Troy.
Let not my fatal prophecy be true,
Nor what I tremble but to think, ensue.
Whatever be our fate, yet let us try
What force of thought and reason can supply;
Let us on counsel for our guard depend;
The town her gates and bulwarks shall defend.
When morning dawns, our well-appointed powers,
Array'd in arms, shall line the lofty towers.
Let the fierce hero then, when fury calls,
Vent his mad vengeance on our rocky walls,
Or fetch a thousand circles round the plain,
Till his speut coursers scek the fleet again;
So may his rage be tired, and labour'd down;
And dogs shall tear him c'er he sack the town.
Return? (said Hector, fired with stern disdain)
What! coop whole armies in our walls again?
Was't not enough, ye valiant warriors, say,
Nine years imprison'd in those towers ye lay?
Wide o'er the world was Ilion famed of old
For brass exhaustless, and for mines of gold;
But while inglorious in her walls we stay'd,
Sunk were her treasures, and her stores decay'd:
The Phrygians now her scatter'd spoils enjoy,
And proud Maconia wastes the fruits of Troy.
Great Jove at length my arms to conquest calls,
And shots the Grecians in their wooden walls:
Dar'st thou dispirit whom the gods incite ?
Flies any Trojan? I shall stop his flight.
To better counsel then attention lend;
Take due refreshment, and the watch attend.
If there be one whose riches cost him care,

380

390

That, with his arms, shall hang before thy shrine;
And twelve the noblest of the Trojan line,
Sacred to vengeance, by this hand expire,
Their lives effused around thy flaming pyre.
330 Thus let me lie till then; thus, closely press'd,
Eathe thy cold face, and sob upon thy breast!
While Trojan captives here thy mourners stay,
Weep all the night, and murmur all the day:
Spoils of my arms, and thine! when, wasting wide,
Our swords kept tine, and conquer'd side by side.
He spoke, and bid the sad attendants round
Cleanse the pale corse, and wash each honour'd
wound

341

A massy caldron of stupendous frame
They brought, and placed it o'er the rising flame
Then heap the lighted wood; the flame divides
Beneath the vase, and climbs around the sides :
In its wide womb they pour the rushing stream;
The boiling water bubbles to the brim.

400

410

The body then they bathe with pious toil,

Embalm the wounds, anoint the limbs with oil,

High on a bed of state extended laid,

And decent cover'd with a linen shade:

Last o'er the dead the milk-white veil they threw:

Forth let him bring them for the troops to share; 350 That done, their sorrows and their sighs renew.

High-eminent amid the works divine,
Where heaven's far-beaming brazen mansions shine.
There the lame architect the goddess found,
Obscure in smoke, his forges flaming round,
While bathed in sweat from fire to fire he flew;
And puffing loud, the roaring bellows blew.
That day no common task his labour claim'd:
Full twenty tripods for his hall he framed,
That placed on living wheels of massy gold
(Wondrous to tell) instinct with spirit roll'd
From place to place, around the bless'd'abodes,
Self-moved, obedient to the beck of gods:

For their fair handles now, o'erwrought with flowers,
In moulds prepared, the glowing ore he pours.
Just as responsive to his thought the frame,
Stood prompt to move, the azure goddess came:
Charis, his spouse, a Grace divinely fair
(With purple fillets round her braided hair,)
Observed her entering; her soft hand she press'd,
And smiling, thus the watery queen address'd:

What, goddess! this unusual favour draws?
All hail, and welcome! whatsoe'er the cause:
Till now a stranger, in a happy hour
Approach, and taste the dainties of the bower.
High on a throne, with stars of silver graced,
And various artifice, the queen she placed;
A footstool at her feet; then, calling, said,
Vulcan, draw near; 'tis Thetis asks your aid.
Thetis (replied the god) our powers may claim,
An ever-dear, an ever-honour'd name!
When my proud mother hurl'd me from the sky
(My awkward form, it seems, displeased her eye,)
She and Eurynomè my griefs redress'd,

450

Oh, Vulcan! say, was ever breast divine

So pierced with sorrows, so o'erwhelm'd as mine?
Of all the goddesses, did Jove prepare
For Thetis only such a weight of care?
I, only I, of all the watery race,

By force subjected to a man's embrace,

510

Who, sinking now with age and sorrow, pays
440 The mighty fine imposed on length of days.
Sprung from my bed, a godlike hero came,
The bravest sure that ever bore the name.
Like some fair plant beneath my careful hand
He grew, he flourish'd, and he graced the land:
To Troy I sent him; but his native shore
Never, ah never, shall receive him more!
(E'en while he lives, he wastes with secret woe;)
Nor I, a goddess, can retard the blow!
Robb'd of the prize the Grecian suffrage gave,
The king of nations forced his royal slave:
For this he grieved: and, till the Greeks oppress'd,
Required his arm, he sorrow'd unredress'd.
Large gifts they promise, and their elders send;
In vain-he arms not, but permits his friend
His arms, his steeds, his forces to employ;
He marches, combats, almost conquers Troy.
Then slain by Phoebus (Hector had the name)
At once resigns his armour, life, and fame.
But thou, in pity, by my prayer be won:
Grace with immortal arms this short-lived son,
And to the field in martial pomp restore,
To shine with glory till he shines no more!

460

And soft received me on their silver breast.
E'en then, these arts employ'd my infant thought;
Chains, bracelets, pendants, all their toys I wrought.
Nine years kept secret in the dark abode,

Secure I lay conceal'd from man and god :
Deep in a cavern'd rock my days were led ;
The rushing ocean murmur'd o'er my head.
Now since her presence glads our mansion, say,
For such desert what service can I pay?
Vouchsafe, O Thetis! at our board to share
The genial rites and hospitable fare;
While I the labours of the forge forego,
And bid the roaring bellows cease to blow.

To her the artist god: Thy griefs resign,
Secure, what Vulcan can, is ever thine.
O could I hide him from the Fates as well,
Or with these hands the cruel stroke repel,
As I shall forge most envied arms, the gaze
Of wondering ages, and the world's amaze!

Thus having said, the father of the fires
470 To the black labours of his forge retires.

520

530

Soon as he bade them blow, the bellows turn'd
Their iron mouths; and where the furnace burn'd,
Resounding breath'd: at once the blast expires, 541
And twenty forges catch at once the fires;
Just as the god directs, now loud, now low,
They raise a tempest, or they gently blow.
In hissing flames huge silver bars are roll'd,
And stubborn brass, and tin, and solid gold:
Before, deep fix'd, the eternal anvils stand;
480 The ponderous hammer loads his better hand,
His left with tongs turns the vex'd metal round,
And thick, strong strokes, the doubling vaults rebound.
Then first he form'd the immense and solid shield;
Rich various artifice emblazed the field;
552
Its utmost verge a threefold circle bound;
A silver chain suspends the massy round;
Five ample plates the broad expanse compose,
And godlike labours on the surface rose.
There shone the image of the master-mind:
There earth, there heaven, there ocean he design'd;
The unwearied sun, the moon completely round; 560
The starry lights that heaven's high convex crown'd;
The Pleiads, Hyads, with the Northern Team;
And great Orion's more refulgent beam;
To which, around the axle of the sky,
The Bear revolving points his golden eye,
Still shines exalted on the ethereal plain,
Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main.
Two cities radiant on the shield appear,

Then from his anvil the lame artist rose;
Wide with distorted legs oblique he goes
And stills the bellows, and (in order laid)
Locks in their chests his instruments of trade.
Then with a sponge the sooty workman dress'd
His brawny arms imbrown'd and hairy breast.
With his huge sceptre graced and red attire,
Came halting forth the sovereign of the fire:
The monarch's steps two female forms uphold,
That moved and breathed in animated gold:
To whom was voice, and sense, and science given
Of works divine (such wonders are in heaven!) 490
On these supported, with unequal gait,
He reach'd the throne where pensive Thetis sate;
There placed beside her on the shining frame,
He thus address'd the silver-footed dame:

Thee, welcome, goddess! what occasion calls
(So long a stranger) to these honour'd walls?
'Tis thine, fair Thetis, the command to lay,
And Vulcan's joy and duty to obey.

To whom the mournful mother thus replies

(The crystal drops stood trembling in her eyes :) 500 The image one of peace, and one of war.

Here sacred pomp and genial feast delight,
And solemn dance, and Hymeneal rite;
Along the street the new-made brides are led,
With torches flaming, to the nuptial bed;
The youthful dancers, in a circle bound,
To the soft flute and cittern's silver sound:
Through the fair streets, the matrons in a row
Stand in their porches, and enjoy the show.

Another field rose high with waving grain: 570 With bended sickles stand the reaper-train:

580

There, in the forum swarm a numerous train,
The subject of debate a townsman slain:
One pleads the fine discharged, which one denied,
And bade the public and the law decide:
The witness is produced on either hand:
For this or that, the partial people stand:
The appointed heralds still the noisy bands,
And form a ring with sceptres in their hands:
On seats of stone within the sacred place,
The reverend elders nodded o'er the case;
Alternate, each the attesting sceptre took,
And, rising solemn, each his sentence spoke.
Two golden talents lay amidst, in sight,
The prize of him who best adjudged the right.
Another part (a prospect differing far)
Glow'd with refulgent arms and horrid war.
Two mighty hosts a leaguer'd town embrace,
And one would pillage, one would burn the place.
Meantime the townsmen, arm'd with silent care,
A secret ambush on the foe prepare:
Their wives, their children, and the watchful band
Of trembling parents, on the turrets stand.
They march by Pallas and by Mars made bold:
Gold were the gods, their radiant garments gold, 600
And gold their armour: these the squadron led,
August, divine, superior by the head!

638

Here stretch'd in ranks the levell'd swarths are found,
Sheaves heap'd on sheaves here thicken up the ground.
With sweeping stroke the mowers strew the lands;
The gatherers follow, and collect in bands;
And last the children, in whose arms are borne
(Too short to gripe them, the brown sheaves of corn.
The rustic monarch of the field descries,

With silent glee, the heaps around him rise.
A ready banquet on the turf is laid,
Beneath an ample oak's expanded shade.
The victim ox the sturdy youth prepare;
The reaper's due repast, the women's care.

650

Next, ripe in yellow gold, a vineyard shines,
Bent with the pondrous harvest of its vines;
A deeper dye the dangling clusters show,
And curl'd on silver props, in order glow:
A darker metal mix'd, intrench'd the place:
And pales of glittering tin the enclosure grace.
To this, one path-way gently winding leads,
590 Where march a train with baskets on their heads
(Fair maids, and blooming youths,) that smiling bear
The purple product of the autumnal year.
660
To these a youth awakes the warbling strings,
Whose tender lay the fate of Linus sings;
In measured dance behind him move the train,
Tune soft the voice, and answer to the strain.

A place for ambush fit they found, and stood
Cover'd with shields, beside a silver flood.
Two spies at distance lurk, and watchful seem
If sheep or oxen seek the winding stream.
Soon the white flocks proceeded o'er the plains,
And steers slow moving, and two shepherd swains;
Behind them, piping on their reeds, they go,
Nor fear an ambush nor suspect a foe.
In arms the glittering squadron rising round,
Rush sudden! hills of slaughter heap the ground,
Whole flocks and herds lie bleeding on the plains,
And, all amidst them, dead, the shepherd swains!
The bellowing oxen the besiegers hear;

670

Here, herds of oxen march, erect and bold,
Rear high their horns, and seem to low in gold,
And speed to meadows, on whose sounding shores
A rapid torrent through the rushes roars:
Four golden herdsmen as their guardians stand,
And nine sour dogs complete the rustic band.
Two lions rushing from the wood appear'd,
And seized a bull, the master of the herd:
He roar'd in vain the dogs, the men withstood;
They tore his flesh, and drank the sable blood.
The dogs (oft cheer'd in vain) desert the prey,
Dread the grim terrors, and at distance bay.

680

Next this, the eye the art of Vulcan leads
610 Deep through fair forests and a length of meads;
And stalls, and folds, and scatter'd cots between;
And fleecy flocks, that whiten all the scene.
A figured dance succeeds; such once was seen
In lofty Gnossus; for the Cretan queen,
Form'd by Dædalean art; a comely band
Of youths and maidens, bounding hand in hand:
The maids in soft cymars of linen dress'd;
The youths all graceful in the glossy vest:
Of those the locks with flowery wreaths enroll'd;
Of these the sides adorn'd with swords of gold,
That, glittering gay, from silver belts depend.
Now all at once they rise, at once descend
With well-taught feet: now shape, in oblique ways,
Confusedly regular, the moving maze:

620

They rise, take horse, approach, and meet the war;
They fight, they fall, beside the silver flood;
The waving silver seem'd to blush with blood.
There tumult, there contention, stood confess'd;
One rear'd a dagger at a captive's breast,
One held a living foe, that freshly bled
With new-made wounds; another dragg'd a dead;
Now here, now there, the carcasses they tore;
Fate stalk'd amidst them, grim with human gore;
And the whole war came out, and met the eye;
And each bold figure seem'd to live or die.

Now forth at once, too swift for sight, they spring,
And undistinguish'd blend the flying ring:
So whirls a wheel, in giddy circle toss'd,
And rapid as it runs, the single spokes are lost;
The gazing multitudes admire around:

630 Two active tumblers in the centre bound;
Now high, now low, their pliant limbs they bend,
And general songs the sprightly revel end.

A field deep-furrow'd next the god design'd,
The third time labour'd by the sweating hind;
The shining shares full many ploughmen guide,
And turn their crooked yokes on every side.
Still as at either end they wheel around,
The master meets them with his goblet crown'd;
The hearty draught rewards, renews their toil,
Then back the turning plough-shares cleave the soil:
Behind, the rising earth in ridges roll'd:

And sable look'd, though form'd of molten gold.

690

700

Thus the broad shield complete the artist crown'd
With his last hand, and pour'd the ocean round:
In living silver seem'd the waves to rol!,
And beat the buckler's verge, and bound the whole.

This done, whate'er a warrior's use requires,
He forged-the cuirass that outshone the fires,
The greaves of ductile tin, the helm impress'd
With various sculpture, and the golden crest.
At Thetis' feet the finish'd labour lay;
She, as a falcon, cuts the aerial way,
Swift from Olympus' snowy summit flies,
And bears the blazing present through the skies.

BOOK XIX.

ARGUMENT.

Whole years untouch'd, uninjured, shall remain,
Fresh as in life, the carcass of the slain.

But go, Achilles (as affairs require ;)

40

Before the Grecian peers renounce thine ire;
Then uncontroll'd in boundless war engage,
710 And Heaven with strength supply the mighty rage.
Then in the nostrils of the slain she pour'd
Nectareous drops, and rich ambrosia shower'd
O'er all the corse. The flies forbid their prey,
Untouch'd it rests, and sacred from decay.
Achilles to the strand obedient went;
The shores resounded with the voice he sent.
The heroes heard, and all the naval train
That tend the ships, or guide them o'er the main,
Alarm'd, transported at the well-known sound,
Frequent and full the great assembly crown'd;
Studious to see that terror of the plain,
Long lost to battle, shine in arms again.
Tydides and Ulysses first appear,
Lame with their wounds, and leaning on the spear,
These on the sacred seats of council placed,
The king of men, Atrides, came the last :
He too sore wounded by Agenor's son.
Achilles, rising in the midst, begun:

The Reconciliation of Achilles and Agamemnon. Thetis brings to her son the armour made by Vulcan. She preserves the body of his friend from corruption, and commands him to assemble the army, to declare his resentment at an end. Agamemnon and Achilles are solemnly reconciled: the speeches, presents, and ceremonies on that occasion. Achilles is with great difti culty persuaded to refrain from the battle till the troops have refreshed themselves, by the advice of Ulysses. The presents are conveyed to the tent of Achilles: where Briseis laments over the body of Patroclus. The hero obstinately refuses all repast, and gives himself up to lamentations for his friend. Minerva descends to strengthen him, by the order of Jupiter. He arms for the right: his appearance described.

Oh monarch! better far had been the fate

Of thee, of me, of all the Grecian state,
If (ere the day when, by mad passion sway'd,

He addresses himself to his horses, and reproaches Rash we contended for the black-eyed maid,)
them with the death of Patroclus. One of them is mi- Preventing Dian had despatch'd her dart,
raculously endued with voice, and inspired to prophesy
his fate: but the hero, not astonished at that prodigy,
rushes with fury to the combat.

The thirtieth day. The scene is on the sea-shore.

BOOK XIX.

SOON as Aurora heaved her orient head
Above the waves that blush'd with early red,
(With new-born day to gladden mortal sight,
And gild the courts of heaven with sacred light,)
The immortal arms the goddess-mother bears
Swift to her sou: her son she finds in tears
Stretch'd o'er Patroclus' corse; while all the rest
Their sovereign's sorrow in their own express'd.
A ray divine her heavenly presence shed,
And thus, bis hand soft-touching, Thetis said:

Suppress (my son) this rage of grief, and know
It was not man, but Heaven, that gave the blow;
Eehold what arms by Vulcan are bestow'd,
Arms worthy thee, or fit to grace a god.

Then drops the radiant burden on the ground;
Clang the strong arms, and ring the shores around:
Back shrink the Myrmidous with dread surprise,
And from the broad effulgence turn their cyes.
Unmoved, the hero kindles at the show,
And feels with rage divine his bosom glow;
From his fierce eye-balls living dames expire,
And dash incessant like u stre: m of fire:
He turns the radiant gift, and feeds his mind
On all the inmortal artist had design'd.

50

And shot the shining mischief to the heart:
Then many a hero had not press'd the shore,
Nor Troy's glad fields been fatten'd with our gore:
Long, long shall Greece the woes we caused bewail,
And sad posterity repeat the tale.
But this, no more the subject of debate,
Is past, forgotten, and resigu'd to fate.
Why should (alas!) a mortal man, as 1,
Burn with a fury that can never die?
Here then my anger ends: let war succeed,
And e'en as Greece has bled, let lion bleed.
Now call the hosts, and try if in our sight
Troy yet shall dare to camp a second night:
I deem their mightiest, when this arm he knows,
Shall 'scape with transport, and with joy repose.
He said: his finish'd wrath with loud acclaim
10 The Greeks accept, and shout Pelides' name.
When thus, not rising from his lof throne,
In state unmoved, the king of men begun :
Hear me, ye sons of Greece! with sitence hear!
And grant your monarch an impartial ear;
Awhile your loud, untimely joy suspend,
And let your rash, injurious clamours ead:
Unruly murmurs, or ill-timed applause,
Wrong the best speaker, and the jus est cause.
Nor charge on me, ye Greeks, the dire debate:
20 Know, angry Jove, and all-compelling Fate,
With fell Erinnys, urged my wrath that day
When from Achilles' arms I forced the prey.
What then could I, against the will of Heaven?
Not by myself, but vengeful Atè driven;

Goddess! (he cried) these glorious arms that shine She, Jove's dread daughter, fated to infest

The race of mortals, enter'd in my breast.
Not on the ground that haughty Fury treads,
But prints her lofty footsteps on the heads
Of mighty men! inflicting as she goes
Long-festering wounds, inextricable woes!
Of old, she stalk'd amid the bright abodes;
And Jove himself, the sire of men and gods,

80

90

100

170

Dismiss the people then, and give command
With strong repast to hearten every band;
But let the presents to Achilles made,
In full assembly of all Greece be laid:
The king of men shall rise in public sight,
And solemn swear (observant of the rite,)
That spotless as she came, the maid removes,
Pure from his arms, and guiltless of his loves.
That done, a sumptuous banquet shall be made,
110 And the full price of injured honour paid.
Stretch not henceforth, O prince! thy sovereign might
Beyond the bound of reason and of right;
180
"Tis the chief praise that e'er to kings belong'd,
To right with justice whom with power they wrong'd.
To him the monarch: Just is thy decree,
Thy words give joy, and wisdom breathes in thee.
Each due atonement gladly I prepare ;
And Heaven regard me as I justly swear.
Here then awhile let Greece assembled stay,
120 Nor great Achilles grudge this short delay;
Till from the flect our presents be convey'd,
And, Jove attesting, the firm compact made.
A train of noble youth the charge shall bear ;
These to select, Ulysses, be thy care:
In order rank'd let all our gifts appear,
And the fair train of captives close the rear:
Talthybius shall the victim boar convey,
Sacred to Jove, and yon bright orb of day.

The world's great ruler, felt her venom'd dart;
Deceived by Juno's wiles, and female art.
For when Alcmena's nine long months were run,
And Jove expected his immortal son,
To gods and goddesses the unruly joy
He show'd, and vaunted of his matchless boy:
From us (he said) this day an infant springs,
Fated to rule, and born a king of kings.
Saturnia ask'd an oath, to vouch the truth,
And fix dominion on the favour'd youth.
The Thunderer, unsuspicious of the fraud,
Pronounced those solemn words that bind a god.
The joyful goddess from Olympus' height,
Swift to Achaian Argos bent her flight;
Scarce seven moons gone, lay Sthenelus's wife;
She push'd her lingering infant into life:
Her charms Alcmena's coming labours stay,
And stop the babe just issuing to the day:
Then bids Saturnius bear his oath in mind:
'A youth (says she) of Jove's immortal kind,
Is this day born; from Sthenelus he springs,
And claims thy promise to be king of kings.'
Grief seized the Thunderer, by his oath engaged;
Stung to the soul, he sorrow'd and he raged.
From his ambrosial head, where perch'd she sat,
He snatch'd the fury-goddess of debate,
The dread, the irrevocable oath he swore,
The immortal seats should ne'er behold her more;
And whirl'd her headlong down, for ever driven
From bright Olympus and the starry heaven:
Thence on the nether world the Fury fell;
Ordain'd with man's contentious race to dwell.
Full oft the god his son's hard toils bemoan'd,
Cursed the dire Fury, and in secret groan'd.
E'en thus, like Jove himself, was I misled,
While raging Hector heap'd our camps with dead.
What can the errors of my rage atone?
My martial troops, my treasures are thy own:
This instant from the navy shall be sent
Whate'er Ulysses promised at thy tent:
But thou appeased, propitious to our prayer,
Resume thy arms, and shine again in war.

O king of nations! whose superior sway
(Returns Achilles) all our host obey!
To keep or send the presents be thy care;
To us 'tis equal: all we ask is war.
While yet we talk, or but an instant shun
The fight, our glorious work remains undone.
Let every Greek who sees my spear confound
The Trojan ranks, and deal destruction round,
With emulation, what I act survey,

130

190

For this (the stern acides replies,)
Some less important season may suffice,
When the stern fury of the war is o'er,
And wrath extinguish'd burns my breast no more. 200
By Hector slain, their faces to the sky,
All grim with gaping wounds our heroes lie:
Those call to war! and might my voice incite,
Now, now, this instant, should commence the fight:
Then, when the day's complete, let generous bowls,
And copious banquets, glad our weary souls.
Let not my palate know the taste of food,
140 Till my insatiate rage be cloy'd with blood:
Pale lies my friend with wounds disfigured o'er,
And his cold feet are pointed to the door.
Revenge is all my soul! no meaner care,
Interest, or thought, has room to harbour there;
Destruction be my feast, and mortal wounds,
And scenes of blood, and agonizing sounds.

210

220

O first of Greeks! (Ulysses thus rejoin'd,)
The best and bravest of the warrior kind!
Thy praise it is in dreadful camps to shine,
150 But old experience and calm wisdom mine.
Then hear my counsel, and to reason yield:
The bravest soon are satiate of the field;
Though vast the heaps that strew the crimson plain,
The bloody harvest brings but little gain :
The scale of conquest ever waving lies,
Great Jove but turns it, and the victor dies!
The great, the bold, by thousands daily fall,
And endless were the grief to weep for all.
Eternal sorrows what avails to shed ?
Greece honours not with solemn feasts the dead :
Enough when death demands the brave to pay
The tribute of a melancholy day,
One chief with patience to the grave resign'd,
One care devolves on others left behind.
Let generous food supplies of strength produce,
Let rising spirits flow from sprightly juice,
Let their warm heads with scenes of battle glow
And pour new furies on the feebler fos.

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And learn from thence the business of the day.
The son of Peleus thus: and thus replies,
The great in councils, Ithacus the wise.
Though, godlike, thou art by no toils oppress'd,
At least our armies claim repast and rest.
Long and laborious must the combat be,
When by the gods inspired, and led by thee.
Strength is derived from spirits and from blood,
And those augment by generous wine and food:
What boastful son of war, without that stay,
Can last a hero through a single day?
Courage may prompt; but, ebbing out his strength,
Mere unsupported man must yield at length;
Shrunk with dry famine, and with toils declined,
The drooping body will desert the mind:
But built anew with strength-conferring fare,
With limbs and soul untamed he tires a war.

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