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His deep design unknown, the hosts approve Atrides' speech. The mighty numbers move. So roll the billows to th’ Icarian shore,

175 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 :

180 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 loole sands, and thicken to the fleet. With long-resounding cries they urge the train 185 To fit the ships, and launch into the main. They toil, they sweat, thicke 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 ; 190 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, 195 In peace enjoy the fruits of broken vows ? And bravest chiefs, in Helen's quarrel lain, Lie unreveng'd on yon detested plain ? No: let my Greeks, unmoy'd by vain alarms, Once more refulgent shine in brazen arms. Hatte, Goddess, hafte! the flying host detain, Nor let one fail. be hoisted on the main.



Pallas obeys, and from Olympus' height Swift to the ships precipitates her flight; Ulysses, first in public cares, the found,

For prudent counsel like the Gods renown'd:
Oppress’d with generous grief the hero stood,
Nor drew his fable vessels to the flood.
And is it thus, divine Laërtes' fon!
Thus fly the Greeks (the martial maid begun) 210
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 ?
Hafte, generous Ithacus! prevent the shame, 215
Recall your armies, and your chiefs reclaim,
Your own refiftless eloquence employ,
And to th' Immortals trust the fall of Troy.

The voice divine confess'd the warlike maid,
Ulyffes heard, 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 flies through all the Grecian train, Each prince of name, or chief in arms approv'd, 225 He fir'd with praise, or with persuasion mov’d.

Warriours 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,

230 Th’unwary Greeks his fury may provoke ; Not thus the king in secret council fpoke.


He runs,


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 flave, and to thy betters yield;
Unknown alike in council and in field !
Ye Gods, what daftards 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, 245 The loudest silenc'd, and the fiercest cool'd. Back to th' assembly roll the thronging train, Desert the ships, and pour upon the plain. Murmuring they move, as when old Ocean roars, And heaves huge furges to the trembling shores: 250 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 filence lulls the camp to peace, Thersites only clamour'd in the throng.

255 Loquacious, loud, and turbulent of tongue: Aw'd by no shame, by no respects control'd, In scandal busy, in reproaches bold : With witty malice studious to defame : Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim ; 260 But chief he glory'd, with licentious stile, To lalh 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, 265
Thin hairs bestrew'd his long mishapen head.
Spleen to mankind his envious heart poffeft,
And much he hated all, but most the best.
Ulysses or Achilles still his theme;
But royal scandal his delight fupreme,

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,

275 What moves the great Atrides to complain ? 'Tis thine whate'er the warriour'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, 280 Thus at full ease in heaps of riches rollid, What grieves the monarch ? Is it thirst of gold ? Say, Mall we march with our unconquer'd powers, (The Greeks, and I) to Ilion's hostile towers, And bring the race of royal bastards here, 285 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? 290 Whate'er our master craves, submit we must, Plagued with his pride, or punish'd for his luft.


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. 295

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,

Thịs 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 : 305

Peace, factious monster, born to vex the state, With wrangling talents form’d for foul debate : Curb that impetuous tongue, nor, rafhly vain And fingly mad, afperse the fovereign reign. Have we not known thee, llave! of all our hoft, 310 The man who acts the least, upbraids the most? Think not the Greeks to shameful Aight 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. 315 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, 320 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,

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