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"Unhappy Paris! but to women brave! So fairly form'd, and only to deceive!

"Hear, all ye Trojans, all ye Grecian bands! What Paris, author of the war, demands,

Oh, hadst thou died when first thou saw'st the light, Your shining swords within the sheath restrain,

Or died at least before thy nuptial rite!
A better fate than vainly thus to boast,
And fly, the scandal of the Trojan host,
Gods! how the scornful Greeks exult to see
Their fears of danger undeceiv'd in thee!
Thy figure promis'd with a martial air,
But ill thy soul supplies a form so fair.
In former days, in all thy gallant pride
When thy tall ships triumphant stemm'd the tide,
When Greece beheld thy painted canvass flow,
And crowds stood wondering at the passing show;
Say, was it thus, with such a baffled mien,
You met th' approaches of the Spartan queen,
Thus from her realm convey'd the beauteous prize,
And both her warlike lords' outshin'd in Helen's eyes?
This deed, thy foes' delight, thy own disgrace,
Thy father's grief, and ruin of thy race;
This deed recalls thee to the proffer'd fight;
Or hast thou injur'd whom thou dar'st not right?
Soon to thy cost the field would make thee know
Thou keep'st the consort of a braver foe.
Thy graceful form instilling soft desire,
Thy curling tresses, and thy silver lyre,
Beauty and youth; in vain to these you trust,
When youth and beauty shall be laid in dust:
Troy yet may wake, and one avenging blow
Crush the dire author of his country's woe."

His silence here, with blushes, Paris breaks:
"Tis just, my brother, what your anger speaks;
But who like thee can boast a soul sedate,
So firmly proof to all the shocks of fate?
Thy force, like steel, a temper'd hardness shows,
Still edg'd to wound, and still untir'd with blows.
Like steel, uplifted by some strenuous swain,
With falling woods to strow the wasted plain:
Thy gifts I praise; nor thou despise the charms
With which a lover golden Venus arms;
Soft moving speech, and pleasing outward show,
No wish can gain them, but the gods bestow.
Yet, would'st thou have the proffer'd combat stand,
The Greeks and Trojans seat on either hand;
Then let a mid-way space our hosts divide,
And on that stage of war the cause be try'd:
By Paris there the Spartan king be fought,
For beauteous Helen and the wealth she brought:
And who his rival can in arms subdue,
His be the fair, and his the treasure too.
Thus with a lasting league your toils may cease,
And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace;
Thus may the Greeks review their native shore,
Much fam'd for generous steeds, for beauty more."
He said. The challenge Hector heard with joy,
Then with his spear restrain'd the youth of Troy,
Held by the midst, athwart; and near the foe
Advanc'd with steps majestically slow:
While round his dauntless head the Grecians pour
Their stones and arrows in a mingled shower.

Then thus the monarch great Atrides cry'd;
"Forbear, ye warriors! lay the darts aside :
A parley Hector asks, a message bears,
We know him by the various plume he wears.'
Aw'd by his high command the Greeks attend,
The tumult silence, and the fight suspend.

While from the centre Hector rolls his eyes
On either host, and thus to both applies:

Theseus and Menelaus.

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And pitch your lances in the yielding plain.
Here in the midst, in either army's sight,
He dares the Spartan king to single fight;
And wills, that Helen and the ravish'd spoil
That caus'd the contest, shall reward the toil.
Let these the brave triumphant victor grace,
And differing nations part in leagues of peace."
He spoke in still suspense on either side
Each army stood: the Spartan chief reply'd :
"Me too, ye warriors, hear, whose fatal right
A world engages in the toils of fight.
To me the labour of the field resign;
Me Paris injur'd; all the war be mine.
Fall that he must, beneath his rival's arms;
And live the rest, secure of future harms.
Two lambs, devoted by your country's rite,
To Earth a sable, to the Sun a white,
Prepare, ye Trojans! while a third we bring
Select to Jove, th' inviolable king.
Let reverend Priam in the truce engage,
And add the sanction of considerate age;
His sons are faithless, headlong in debate,
And youth itself an empty wavering state:
Cool age advances venerably wise,

Turus on all hands its deep-discerning eyes;
Sees what befel, and what may yet befall,
Concludes from both, and best provides for all."

The nations hear, with rising hopes possest,
And peaceful prospects dawn in every breast.
Within the lines they drew their steeds around,
And from their chariots issued on the ground;
Next all, unbuckling the rich mail they wore,
Lay'd their bright arms along the sable shore.
On either side the meeting hosts are seen,
With lances fix'd, and close the space between.
Two heralds now, dispatch'd to Troy, invite
The Phrygian monarch to the peaceful rite:
Talthybius hastens to the fleet, to bring
The lamb for Jove, th' inviolable king.

Meantime, to beauteous Helen, from the skies
The various goddess of the rain-bow flies
(Like fair Laodicè in form and face
The loveliest nymph of Priam's royal race).
Her in the palace, at her loom she found;
The golden web her own sad story crown'd.
The Trojan wars she weav'd (herself the prize)
And the dire triumph of her fatal eyes.

To whom the goddess of the painted bow;

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Approach and view the wondrous scenes below!
Each hardy Greek, and valiant Trojan knight,
So dreadful late, and furious for the fight,
Now rest their spears, or lean upon their shields;
Ceas'd is the war, and silent all the fields.
Paris alone and Sparta's king advance,
In single fight to toss the beamy lance;
Each met in arms, the fate of combat tries,
Thy love the motive, and thy charms the prize."
This said, the many-colour'd maid inspires
Her husband's love, and wakes her former fires;
Her country, parents, all that once were dear,
Rush to her thoughts, and force a tender tear.
O'er her fair face a snowy veil she threw,
And, softly sighing, from the loom withdrew;
Her handmaids Clymenè and Æthra wait
Her silent footsteps to the Scaan gate.

There sat the seniors of the Trojan race.
(Old Priam's chiefs, and most in Priam's grace)

The king the first; Thymotes at his side;
Lampus and Clytius, long in council try'd;
Panthus, and Hicetaön, once the strong;
And next, the wisest of the reverend throng,
Antenor grave, and sage Ucalegon,
Lean'd on the walls, and bask'd before the Sun.
Chiefs, who no more in bloody fights engage,
But wise through time, and narrative with age,
In summer-days like grasshoppers rejoice,
A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.
These, when the Spartan queen approach'd the
In secret own'd resistless beauty's power: [tower,
They cried, "No wonder such celestial charms
For nine long years have set the world in arms;
What winning graces! what majestic mien!
She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen!
Yet hence, oh Heaven! convey that fatal face,
And from destruction save the Trojan race."

The good old Priam welcom'd her, and cried,
"Approach, my child, and grace thy father's side.
See on the plain thy Grecian spouse appears,
The friends and kindred of thy former years.
No crime of thine our present sufferings draws,
Not thou, but Heaven's disposing will, the cause;
The gods these armies and this force employ,
The hostile gods conspire the fate of Troy.
But lift thy eyes, and say, what Greek is he
(Far as from hence these aged orbs can see)
Around whose brow such martial graces shine,
So tall, so awful, and almost divine!
Though some of larger stature tread the green,
None match his grandeur and exalted mien :
He seems a monarch, and his country's pride."
Thus ceas'd the king; and thus the fair replied:

Before thy presence, father, I appear With conscious shame and reverential fear. Ah! had I died, ere to these walls I fled, False to my country and my nuptial bed; My brothers, friends, and daughter left behind, False to them all, to Paris only kind? For this I mourn, till grief or dire disease Shall waste the form, whose crime it was to


The king of kings, Atrides, you survey,
Great in the war, and great in arts of sway:
My brother once, before my days of shame;
And oh that still he bore a brother's name!"
With wonder Priam view'd the god-like man,
Extoll'd the happy prince, and thus began:
"O blest Atrides! born to prosperous fate,
Successful monarch of a mighty state!
How vast thy empire! Of yon matchless train
What numbers lost, what numbers yet remain?
In Phrygia once were gallant armies known,
In ancient time, when Otrieus fill'd the throne,
When godlike Mygdon led their troops of horse,
And I, to join them, rais'd the Trojan force :
Against the manlike Amazons we stood,
And Sangar's stream ran purple with their blood.
But far inferior those, in martial grace
And strength of numbers, to this Grecian race."
This said, once more he view'd the warrior-

"What's he whose arms lie scatter'd on the plain?
Broad is his breast, his shoulders larger spread,
Though great Atrides overtops his head.
Nor yet appear his care and conduct small;
From rank to rank he moves, and orders all.
The stately ram thus measures o'er the ground,
And, master of the flock, surveys them round."

Then Helen thus: "Whom your discerning eyes Have singled out, is Ithacus the wise: A barren island boasts his glorious birth: His fame for wisdom fills the spacious Earth." Antenor took the word, and thus began: "Myself, O king! have seen that wond'rous man: When, trusting Jove and hospitable laws, To Troy he came, to plead the Grecian cause; (Great Menelaus urg'd the same request) My house was honour'd with each royal guest: I knew their persons, and admir'd their parts, Both brave in arms, and both approv'd in arts. Erect, the Spartan most engag'd our view; Ulysses seated greater reverence drew. When Atreus' son harangu'd the listening train, Just was his sense, and his expression plain, His words succinct, yet full, without a fault; He spoke no more than just the thing he ought. But when Ulysses rose, in thought profound, His modest eyes he fixt upon the ground, As one unskill'd or dumb, he seem'd to stand, Nor rais'd his head, nor stretch his scepter'd hand; But when he speaks, what elocution flows! Soft as the fleeces of descending snows, The copious accents fall with easy art; Melting they fall, and sink into the heart! Wondering we hear, and fix'd in deep surprize; Our ears refute the censure of our eyes."

The king then ask'd (as yet the camp he view'd) "What chief is that, with giant strength endued; Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swelling chest, And lofty stature, far exceed the rest?" "Ajax the great," the beauteous queen replied; "Himself a host: the Grecian strength and pride. See! bold Idomeneus superior towers Amidst you circle of his Cretan powers, Great as a god! I saw him once before, With Menelaus, on the Spartan shore. The rest I know, and could in order name; All valiant chiefs, and men of mighty fame. Yet two are wanting of the numerous train, Whom long my eyes have sought, but sought in


Castor and Pollux, first in martial force,
One bold on foot, and one renown'd for horse.
My brothers these; the same our native shore,
One house contain'd us, as one mother bore.
Perhaps the chiefs, from warlike toils at ease,
For distant Troy refus'd to sail the seas:
Perhaps their swords some nobler quarrel draws,
Asham'd to combat in their sister's cause."

So spoke the fair, nor knew her brothers' doom,
Wrapt in the cold embraces of the tomb;
Adorn'd with honours in their native shore.
Silent they slept, and heard of wars no more.

Meantime the heralds, through the crowded town, Bring the rich wine and destin'd victims dowa, Idæus' arms the golden goblets prest, Who thus the venerable king addrest: "Arise, father of the Trojan state! The nations call, thy joyful people wait, To seal the truce, and end the dire debate. Paris thy son, and Sparta's king, advance, In measur'd lists to toss the weighty lance; And who his rival shall its arms subdue His be the dame, and his the treasure too. Thus with the lasting league our toils may cease, And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace; So shall the Greeks review their native shore, Much fam'd for generous steeds, for beauty more."


With grief he heard, and bade the chiefs prepare
To join his milk-white coursers to the car:
He mounts the seat, Antenor at his side;
The gentle steeds through Scæa's gates they guide:
Next from the car descending on the plain,
Amid the Grecian host and Trojan train
Slow they proceed: the sage Ulysses then
Arose, and with him rose the king of men.
On either side a sacred herald stands,

The wine they mix, and on each monarch's hands
Pour the full urn; then draws the Grecian lord
His cutlace, sheath'd beside his ponderous sword;
From the sign'd victims crops the curling hair,
The heralds part it, and the princes share;
Then loudly thus before th' attentive bands
He calls the gods, and spreads his lifted hands:
"O first and greatest power! whom all obey,
Who high on Ida's holy mountain sway,
Fernal Jove! and you bright orb that roll
From east to west, and view from pole to pole!
Thou mother Earth! and all ye living floods!
Infernal furies and Tartarian gods,

Who rule the dead, and horrid woes prepare
For perjur'd kings, and all who falsely swear!
Hear, and be witness. If, by Paris slain,
Great Menelaus press the fatal plain;
The dame and treasures let the Trojan keep,
And Greece returning plough the watery deep..
If by my brother's lance the Trojan bleed;
Be his the wealth and beauteous dame decreed:
Th' appointed fine let Ilion justly pay,
And every age record the signal day.
Thus if the Phrygians shall refuse to yield,
Arms must revenge, and Mars decide the field."
With that the chief the tender victims slew,
And in the dust their bleeding bodies threw.
The vital spirit issued at the wound,
And left the members quivering on the ground.
From the same urn they drink the mingled wine,
And add libations to the powers divine.

While thus their prayers united mount the sky;
"Hear, mighty Jove! and hear, ye gods on high!
And may their blood, who first the league con-


Shed like this wine, distain the thirsty ground; May all their consorts serve promiscuous lust, And all their race be scatter'd as the dust!" Thus either host their imprecations join'd, Which Jove refus'd, and mingled with the wind.

The rites now finish'd, reverend Priam rose, And thus express'd a heart o'ercharg'd with woes: "Ye Greeks and Trojans, let the chiefs engage, But spare the weakness of my feeble age: In yonder walls that object let me shun, Nor view the danger of so dear a son. Whose arms shall conquer, and what prince shall

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Whoe'er involv'd us in this dire debate,
Oh give that author of the war to fate
And shades eternal! let division cease,
And joyful nations join in leagues of peace."
With eyes averted, Hector hastes to turn
The lots of fight, and shakes the brazen urn.
Then, Paris, thine leap'd forth; by fatal chance
Ordain'd the first to whirl the weighty lance.
Both armies sat the combat to survey,
Beside each chief his azure armour lay,
And round the lists the generous coursers neigh.
The beauteous warrior now arrays for fight,
In gilded arms magnificently bright:
The purple cuishes clasp his thighs around,
With flowers adorn'd, with silver buckles bound:
Lycaon's corslet his fair body drest,

Brac'd in, and fitted to his softer breast:
A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder ty'd,
Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side:
His youthful face a polish'd helm o'erspread;
The waving horse hair nodded on his heal;
His figur'd shield, a shining orb, he takes,
And in his hand a pointed javelin shakes.
With equal speed, and fir'd by equal charms,
The Spartan hero sheaths his limbs in arms.

Now round the lists the admiring armies stand,
With javelins fix'd, the Greek and Trojan band.
Amidst the dreadful vale, the chiefs advance
All pale with rage, and shake the threatening lance.
The Trojan first his shining javelin threw ;
Full on Atrides' ringing shield it flew;
Nor pierc'd the brazen orb, but with a bound
Leap'd from the buckler, blunted on the ground.
Atrides then his massy lance prepares,
In act to throw, but first prefers his prayers:
"Give me, great Jove! to punish lawless lust,
And lay the Trojan gasping in the dust:
Destroy th' aggressor, aid my righteous cause,
Avenge the breach of hospitable laws,
Let this example future times reclaim,
And guard from wrong fair friendship's holy name."
He said, and pois'd in air the javelin sent,
Through Paris' shield the forceful weapon went,
His corselet pierces, and his garment rends,
And, glancing downward, near his flank descends.
The wary Trojan, bending from the blow,
Eludes the death, and disappoints his foe:
But fierce Atrides wav'd his sword, and strook
Full on his casque; the crested helmet shook;
The brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand,
Broke short: the fragments glitter'd on the sand.
The raging warrior to the spacious skies
Rais'd his upbraiding voice, and angry eyes:
"Then is it vain in Jove himself to trust?
And is it thus the gods assist the just?
When crimes provoke us, Heaven success denies;
The dart falls harmless, and the falchion flies."
Furious he said, and tow'rd the Grecian crew
(Seiz'd by the crest) th' unhappy warrior drew;
Struggling he follow'd, while th' embroider'd


That ty'd his helmet, drage'd the chief along.
Then had his ruin crown'd Atrides' joy,
But Venus trembled for the prince of Troy :
Unseen she came, and burst the golden band;
And left an empty helmet in his hand.
The casque, enrag'd, amidst the Greeks he threw;
The Grecks with smiles the polish'd trophy view.
Then, as once more he lifts the deadly dart,
In thirst of vengeance, at his rival's heart,

The queen of love her favour'd champion shrouds
(For gods can all things) in a veil of clouds.
Rais'd from the field the panting youth she led,
And gently laid him on the bridal bed,
With pleasing sweets his fainting sense renews,
And all the dome perfumes with heavenly dews.
Meantime the brightest of the female kind,
The matchless Helen, o'er the walls reclin'd;
To her, beset with Trojan beauties, came
In borrow'd form the laughter-loving dame',
(She seem'd an ancient maid, well-skill'd to cull
The snowy fleece, and wind the twisted wool.)
The goddess softly shook her silken vest,
That shed perfumes, and whispering thus addrest:
"Haste, happy nymph! for thee thy Paris calls,
Safe from the tight, in yonder lofty walls.
Fair as a god! with odours round him spread
He lies, and waits thee on the well-known bed:
Not like a warrior parted from the foe,
But some gay dancer in the public show."

She spoke, and Helen's secret soul was mov'd ; ·
She scora'd the champion, but the man she lov'd.
Fair Venus' neck, her eyes that sparkled fire,
And breast, r veal'd the queen of soft desire.
Struck with her presence, straight the lively red
Fasook her cheek; and, trembling, thus said:
"Then is it still thy pleasure to deceive?
And woman's frailty always to believe?
Say, to new nations must I cross the main,
Or carry wars to some soft Asian plain?

For whom must Helen break her second vow?
What other Paris is thy darling now?
Left to Atrides (victor in the stife)
An odions conquest, and a captive wife,
Hence let me sail: and if thy Paris bear
My absence ill, let Venus ease his care.
A hand-maid goddess at his side to wait,
Renounce the glories of thy heavenly state,
Be fix'd for ever to the Trojan shore,

His spouse, or slave; and mount the skies no more.
For me, to lawless love no longer led,

I scorn the coward, and detest his bed;
Else should I merit everlasting shame,
And keen reproach, from every Phrygian dame:
Ili suits it now the joys of love to know,
Too deep my anguish, and too wild my woe."

Then, thus incens'd, the Paphian queen replies;
"Obey the power from whom thy glories rise:
Should Venus leave thee, every charm must fly,
Fade from thy cheek, and languish in thy eye..
Cease to provoke me, lest I make thee more
The world's aversion, than their love before;
Now the bright prize for which mankind engage,
Then the sad victim of the public rage."

At this the fairest of her sex obey'd, And veil'd her blushes in a silken shade, Unseen, and silent, from the train she moves, Led by the goddess of the Smiles and Loves. Arriv'd, and enter'd at the palace-gate, The maids officious round their mistress wait; Then all, dispersing, various tasks attend ; The queen and goddess to the prince ascend. Fall in her Paris' sight, the queen of love Had plac'd the beauteous progeny of Jove; Where, as he view'd her charms, she turn'd away Her glowing eyes, and thus began to say:

"Is this the chief, who, lost to sense of shame, Late fled the field, and yet survives his fame ?

■ Venus.

Oh hadst thou dy'd beneath the righteous sword
Of that brave man whom once I call'd my lord!
The boaster Paris oft desir'd the day
With Sparta's king to meet in single fray:
Go now, once more thy rival's rage excite,
Provoke Atrides, and renew the fight:
Yet Helen bids thee stay, lest thou unskill'd
Should'st fall an easy conquest on the field."

The prince replies: "Ah cease, divinely fair,
Nor add reproaches to the wounds I bear;
This day the foe prevail'd by Pallas' power;
We yet may vanquish in a happier hour:
There want not gods to favour us above;
But let the business of our life be love:
These softer moments let delight employ,
And kind embraces snatch the hasty joy.
Not thus I lov'd thee, when from Sparta's shore,
My fore'd, my willing, heavenly prize I bore,
When first entrane'd in Cranae's isle I lay,
Mix'd with thy soul, and all dissolv'd away !”
Thus having spoke, th' enamour'd Phrygian boy
Rush'd to the bed, impatient for the joy.
Him Helen follow'd slow with bashful charms,
And clasp'd the blooming hero in her arms.

While these to love's delicious rapture yield,
The stern Atrides rages round the field :
So some fell lion, whom the woods obey,
Roars through the desert, and demands his prey.
Paris he seeks, impatient to destroy,
But seeks in vain along the troops of Troy;
Ev'n those had yielded to a foe so brave,
The recreant warrior, hateful as the grave.
Then speaking thus, the king of kings arose!
"Ye Trojans, Dardens, all our generous foes!
Hear, and attest! from Heaven with conquest

Our brother's arms the just success have found:
Be therefore now the Spartan wealth restor'd,
Let Argive Helen own her awful lord;
Th' appointed fine let Ilion justly pay,
And age to age record this signal day."

He ceas'd his army's loud applauses rise,
And the long shout runs echoing through the skies.





The gods deliberate in council concerning the Trojan war: they agree upon the continuation of it, and Jupiter sends down Minerva to break the trace. She persuades Pandarus to a'm an arrow at Menelaus, who is wounded, bit cured by Machaun. In the mean time some of the Trojan troops attack the Greeks. Agamemnon is distinguished in all the parts of a good general; he reviews the troops, and exhorts the leaders, some by praises, and others by reproofs. Nestor is particularly celebrated for his military discipline. The battle joins, and great numbers are slain on both sides.

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The same day continues through this, as through | But should this arm prepare to wreak our hate
On thy lov'd realms, whose guilt demands their

the last book (as it does also through the two following, and almost to the end of the seventh book.) The scene is wholly in the field before Troy.

AND now Olympus' shining gates unfold;

The gods, with Jove, assume their thrones ofgold:
Immortal Hebè, fresh with bloom divine,
The golden goblet crowns with purple wine:
While the full bowls flow round, the powers employ
Their careful eyes on long-contended Troy.
When Jove, dispos'd to tempt Saturnia's spleen,
Thus wak'd the fury of his partial queen :
"Two powers divine the son of Atreus aid,
Imperial Juno, and the martial maid;

But high in Heaven they sit, and gaze from far,
The tame spectators of his deeds of war.
Not thus fair Venus helps her favour'd knight,
The queen of pleasures shares the toils of fight,
Each danger wards, and, constant in her care,
Saves in the moment of the last despair.
Her act has rescu'd Paris' forfeit life,
Though great Atrides gain'd the glorious strife.
Then say, ye powers! what signal issue waits
To crown this deed, and finish all the fates?
Shall Heaven by peace the bleeding kingdoms


Or rouse the Furies, and awake the war?
Yet, would the gods for human good provide,
Atrides soon might gain his beauteous bride,
Still Priam's walls in peaceful honours grow,
And through his gates the crowding nations flow."
Thus while he spoke, the queen of Heaven en-

And queen of war in close consult engag'd:
Apart they sit, their deep designs employ,
And meditate the future woes of Troy.
Though secret anger swell'd Minerva's breast,
The prudent goddess yet her wrath supprest;
But Juno, impotent of passion, broke
Her sullen silence, and with fury spoke:

"Shall then, O tyrant of th' ethereal reign!
My schemes, my labours, and my hopes, be vain?
Have I, for this, shook Ilion with alarms,
Assembled nations, set two worlds in arms?
To spread the war, I flew from shore to shore;
Th'immortal coursers scarce the labour bore.
At length ripe vengeance o'er their heads impends,
But Jove himself the faithless race defends:
Loth as thou art to punish lawless lust,
Not all the gods are partial and unjust."

The sire whose thunder shakes the cloudy skies
Sighs from his inmost soul, and thus replies:
"Oh lasting rancour! oh insatiate hate
To Phrygia's monarch, and the Phrygian state!
What high offence has fir'd the wife of Jove,
Can wretched mortals harm the powers above?
That Troy and Troy's whole race thou would'st

And yon fair structures level with the ground?
Haste, leave the skies, fulfil thy stern desire,
Burst all her gates, and wrap her walls in fire!
Let Priam bleed! If yet thou thirst for more,
Bleed all his sons, and Ilion float with gore,
To boundless vengeance the wide realm be given,
Till vast destruction glut the queen of Heaven!
So let it be, and Jove his peace enjoy,
When Heaven no longer hears the name of Troy :

Presume not thou the lifted bolt to stay;
Remember Troy, and give the vengeance way.
For know, of all the numerous towns that rise
Beneath the rolling Sun and starry skies,
Which gods have rais'd, or earth-born men

None stands so dear to Jove as sacred Troy.
No mortals merit more distinguish'd grace
Than godlike Priam, or than Priam's race,
Still to our name their hetacombs expire,
And altars blaze with unextinguish'd fire."

At this the goddess roll'd her radiant eyes,
Then on the thunderer fix'd them, and replies:
"Three towns are Juno's on the Grecian plains,
More dear than all th' extended Earth contains,
Mycenæ, Argos, and the Spartan wall;
These thou may'st raze, nor I forbid their fall:
"Tis not in me the vengeance to remove;
The crime's sufficient, that they share my love.
Of power superior why should I complain?
Resent I may, but must resent in vain.
Yet some distinction Juno might require,
Sprung with thyself from one celestial sire,
A goddess born to share the realms above,
And styl'd the consort of the thundering Jove;
Nor thou a wife and sister's right deny;
Let both consent, and both by turns comply;
So shall the gods our joint decrees obey,
And Heaven shall act as we direct the way.
See ready Pallas waits thy high commands,
To raise in arms the Greek and Phrygian bands;
Their sudden friendship by her arts may cease,
And the proud Trojans first infringe the peace."

The sire of men and monarch of the sky,
Th' advice approv'd, and bade Minerva fly,
Dissolve the league, and all her arts employ
To make the breach the faithless act of Troy.
Fir'd with the charge, she headlong urg'd her

And shot like lightning from Olympus' height.
As the red comet, from Saturnius sent
To fright the nations with a dire porteut
(A fatal sign to armies on the plain,
Or trembling sailors on the wintery main)
With sweeping glories glides along in air,
And shakes the sparkles from its blazing hair :
Between both armies thus, in open sight,
Shot the bright goddess in a trail of light.
With eyes erect the gazing hosts admire
The power descending, and the Heavens on fire!
"The gods" (they cried) "the gods this signal sent,
And fate now labours with some vast event:
Jove seals the league, or bloodier scenes prepares;
Jove, the great arbiter of peace and wars!"

They said, while Pallas through the Trojan
(In shape a mortal) pass'd disguis'd along. [throng
Like bold Laödocus, her course she bent,
Who from Antenor trac'd his high descent.
| Amidst the ranks Lycaon's son she found,
The warlike Pandarus, for strength renown'd;
Whose squadrons, led from black Æsopus' flood,
With flaming shields in martial circle stood.

To him the goddess: "Phrygian! can'st thou A well-tim'd counsel with a willing ear? [hear What praise were thine, could'st thou direct thy dart,

Amidst his triumph, to the Spartan's heart!

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