See the long walls extending to the main,
No god consulted, and no victim slain !
Their fame shall fill the world's remotest ends,
Wide as the morn her golden beam extends;
While old Laomedon's divine abodes,

Those radiant structures rais'd by labouring gods,
Shall, raz'd and lost, in long oblivion sleep.'
Thus spoke the hoary monarch of the deep.

The' almighty thunderer with a frown replies, That clouds the world, and blackens half the skies. 6 Strong god of ocean! thou, whose rage can make The solid earth's eternal basis shake!

What cause of fear from mortal works could move
The meanest subject of our realms above?
Where'er the sun's refulgent rays are cast,
Thy power is honour'd, and thy fame shall last.
But yon proud work no future age shall view,
No trace remain where once the glory grew.
The sapp'd foundations by thy force shall fall,
And, whelm❜d beneath thy waves, drop the huge wall:
Vast drifts of sand shall change the former shore;
The ruin vanish'd, and the name no more.'

Thus they in heaven: while, o'er the Grecian train, The rolling sun descending to the main

Beheld the finish'd work. Their bulls they slew: Black from the tents the savoury vapour flew. And now the fleet, arriv'd from Lemnos' strands, With Bacchus' blessings cheer'd the generous bands. Of fragrant wines the rich Eunæus sent

A thousand measures to the royal tent.
(Eunæus, whom Hypsipylè of yore

To Jason, shepherd of his people, bore)
The rest they purchas'd at their proper cost,
And well the plenteous freight supplied the host:

Each, in exchange, proportion'd treasures gave:
Some, brass or iron; some, an ox, or slave.
All night they feast, the Greek and Trojan powers;
Those on the fields, and these within their towers.
But Jove averse the signs of wrath display'd,
And shot red lightnings through the gloomy shade:
Humbled they stood; pale horror seiz'd on all,
While the deep thunder shook the' aërial hall.
Each pour'd to Jove before the bowl was crown'd;
And large libations drench'd the thirsty ground:
Then late, refresh'd with sleep from toils of fight,
Enjoy'd the balmy blessings of the night.

THE

EIGHTH BOOK

OF THE

ILIAD.

THE ARGUMENT.

THE SECOND BATTLE, AND THE DISTRESS OF
THE GREEKS.

JUPITER assembles a council of the deities, and threatens them with the pains of Tartarus if they assist either side: Minerva only obtains of him that she may direct the Greeks by her counsels. The armies join battle: Jupiter on mount Ida weighs in his halances the fates of both, and affrights the Greeks with his thunders and lightning. Nestor alone con. tinues in the field in great danger: Diomed relieves him; whose exploits, and those of Hector, are excellently described. Juno endeavours to animate Neptune to the assistance of the Greeks, but in vain. The acts of Teucer, who is at length wounded by Hector, and carried off. Juno and Minerva prepare to aid the Grecians, but are restrained by Iris, sent from Jupiter. The night puts an end to the battle. Hector continues in the field (the Greeks being driven to their fortification before the ships), and gives orders to keep the watch all night in the camp, to prevent the enemy from reimbarking and escaping by flight. They kindle fires through all the field, and pass the night under arms.

The time of seven and twenty days is employed from the opening of the poem to the end of this book. The scene here (except of the celestial machines) lies in the field toward the sea-shore.

THE

ILIAD.

BOOK VIII.

AURORA now, fair daughter of the dawn, Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn; When Jove conven'd the senate of the skies, Where high Olympus' cloudy tops arise. The sire of gods his awful silence broke ; The heavens attentive trembled as he spoke. "Celestial states, immortal gods! give ear, Hear our decree, and reverence what ye hear; The fix'd decree which not all heaven can move; Thou, Fate! fulfil it: and, ye powers! approve! What god but enters yon forbidden field, Who yields assistance, or but wills to yield, Back to the skies with shame he shall be driven, Gash'd with dishonest wounds, the scorn of heaven; Or far, O far from steep Olympus thrown, Low in the dark Tartarean gulf shall groan, With burning chains fix'd to the brazen floors, And lock'd by hell's inexorable doors; As deep beneath the' infernal centre hurl'd, As from that centre to the' ethereal world.

Let him who tempts me, dread those dire abodes; And know, the' Almighty is the god of gods.

VOL. II.

D