'If great Achilles rise in all his might,

'His be the danger: I shall stand the fight. 'Honour, ye gods! or let me gain, or give;

And live he glorious, whosoe'er shall live! 'Mars is our common lord, alike to all: 'And oft the victor triumphs, but to fall.'

337

355

360

The shouting host in loud applauses join'd:

So Pallas robb'd the many of their mind;

To their own sense condemn'd, and left to choose

The worst advice, the better to refuse.

While the long night extends her sable reign, Around Patroclus mourn'd the Grecian train. Stern in superior grief Pelides stood;

365

Those slaughtering arms, so used to bathe in blood,
Now clasp his clay-cold limbs: then, gushing, start
The tears, and sighs burst from his swelling heart.
The lion thus, with dreadful anguish stung,
Roars through the desert, and demands his young;
When the grim savage, to his rifled den
Too late returning, snuffs the track of men,

370

And o'er the vales and o'er the forest bounds;

375

I vow'd his much-lov'd offspring to restore,

'Charged with rich spoils, to fair Opuntia's shore P 'But mighty Jove cuts short, with just disdain, The long, long views of poor designing man!

'One fate the warrior and the friend shall strike,

385

'And Troy's black sands must drink our blood alike: Me, too, a wretched mother shall deplore,

'Shall йector's head be offer'd to thy shade;

"That, with his arms, shall hang before thy shrine ;

'And twelve, the noblest of the Trojan line,

Sacred to vengeance, by this hand expire,

395

Their lives effus'd around thy flaming pyre.

Thus let me lie till then! thus, closely press'd, 'Bathe 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 time, and conquer'd side by side.'
He spoke, and bid the sad attendants round
Cleanse the pale corse, and wash each honour'd wound.
A massy cauldron 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.
The body then they bathe with pious toil,
Embalm the wounds, anoint the limbs with oil;
High on a bed of state extended laid,

405

410

And decent cover'd with a linen shade;

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

415

That done, their sorrows and their sighs renew.
Meanwhile to Juno, in the realms above,

(His wife and sister) spoke almighty Jove: At last thy will prevails: great Peleus' son

Rises in arms: such grace thy Greeks have won.

420

'What words are these ?' (th' imperial dame replies, While anger flash'd from her majestic eyes ;)

Succour like this a mortal arm might lend,

And such success mere human wit attend:

' And shall not I, the second power above,

'Heaven's queen, and consort of the thundering Jove,

425

Say, shall not I one nation's fate command,

'Not wreak my vengeance on one guilty land?' So they. Meanwhile the silver-footed dame

430

Reach'd the Vulcanian dome, eternal frame!

High-eminent amid the works divine,

Where heaven's far-beaming brazen mansions shine.

There the lame architect the goddess found,

435

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 fram'd,
That, placed on living wheels of massy gold,
(Wondrous to tell!) instinct with spirit roll'd
From place to place, around the blest abodes,
Self-mov'd, obedient to the beck of gods:

For their fair handles now, o'erwrought with flowers,
In moulds prepar'd, the glowing ore he pours.

440

445