The Greeks, reftor'd, the grateful notes prolong; 620 Apollo liftens, and approves the fong.
'Twas night; the chiefs befide their veffel lie, Till rofy morn had purpled o'er the sky :
Then launch, and hoift the maft; indulgent gales,
Supply'd by Phœbus, fill the swelling fails;
The milk-white canvass bellying as they blow,
The parted ocean foams and roars below :
Above the bounding billows fwift they flew,
Till now the Grecian camp appear'd in view.
Far on the beach they haul their bark to land
(The crooked keel divides the yellow fand);
Then part, where stretch'd along the winding bay
The ships and tents in mingled prospect lay..
But raging ftill, amidst his navy sate
The ftern Achilles, ftedfast in his hate;
Nor mix'd in combat, nor in council join'd;
But wafting cares lay heavy on his mind :
In his black thoughts revenge and flaughter roll,
And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his foul.
*Twelve days were past, and now the dawning light
The Gods had fummon'd to th' Olympian height:
Jove firft afcending from the watery bowers,
Leads the long order of æthereal powers.
When like the morning mift in early day,
Rofe from the flood the Daughter of the Sea;
And to the feats divine her flight addrest.
There, far apart, and high above the rest,
The Thunderer fat; where old Olympus fhrouds
His hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds..
Suppliant the Goddess stood: one hand fhe plac'd 650
Beneath his beard, and one his knee embrac'd:
If e'er, O Father of the Gods! she said,
My words could please thee, or my actions aid;
Some marks of honour on my fon bestow,
And pay in glory what in life you owe.
Fame is at least by heavenly promise due
To life fo fhort, and now dishonour'd too.
Avenge this wrong, oh ever just and wife!
Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rise;
Till the proud king, and all th' Achaian race,
Shall heap with honours him they now disgrace.
Thus Thetis fpoke, but Jove in filence held
The facred councils of his breast conceal'd.
Not fo repuls'd, the Goddess closer prest,
Still grafp'd his knees, and urg'd the dear request :665
O fire of gods and men! thy fuppliant hear;
Refufe, or grant; for what has Jove to fear?
Or, oh! declare, of all the powers above,
Is wretched Thetis leaft the care of Jove?
She faid, and fighing thus the God replies,
Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted skies?
What haft thou afk'd? Ah why fhould Jove engage
In foreign contests, and domestic rage,
The Gods complaints, and Juno's fierce alarms,
While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms?
Go, left the haughty partner of my sway
With jealous eyes thy close accefs furvey;
But part in peace, fecure thy prayer is sped :
Witness the facred honours of our head,
The nod that ratifies the will divine,
The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable fign;
This feals thy fuit, and this fufills thy vows-
He fpoke, and awful bends his fable brows;
Shakes his ambrofial curls, and gives the nod;
The ftamp of fate, and fanction of the God:
High heaven with trembling the dread fignal took,
And all Olympus to the centre fhook.
Swift to the feas profound the Goddess flies,
Jove to his ftarry manfion in the fkies.
The shining fynod of th' immortals wait
The coming God, and from their thrones of state
Arifing filent, wrapt in holy fear,
Before the majefty of heaven appear,
Trembling they ftand, while Jove affumes the throne, All, but the God's imperious queen
Late had the view'd the filver-footed dame,
And all her paffions kindled into flame.
Say, artful manager of heaven (she cries)
Who now partakes the fecrets of the skies?
Thy Juna knows not the decrees of fate,
In vain the partner of imperial state.
What favourite Goddefs then thofe cares divides,
Which Jove in prudence from his confort hides?
To this the Thunderer: Seek not thou to find
The facred counfels of almighty mind:
Involv'd in darkness lies the great decree,
Nor can the depths of fate be pierc'd by thee.
What fits thy knowledge, thou the first shalt know
The first of Gods above and men below;
But thou, nor they, shall search the thoughts that roll 710
Deep in the clofe receffes of
Full on the fire the Goddefs of the fkies
Roll'd the large orbs of her majestic eyes,
And thus return'd: Auftere Saturnius, fay
From whence this wrath, or who controls thy fway? 715
Thy boundless will, for me remains, in force,
And all thy councils take the deftin'd course.
But 'tis for Greece I fear: for late was feen
In close consult the Silver-footed Queen.
Jove to his Thetis nothing could deny,
Nor was the signal vain that shook the sky.
What fatal favour has the Goddess won,
To grace her fierce, inexorable fon ?
Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench the plain,
And glut his vengeance with my people fiain.
Then thus the God: Oh reftless fate of pride,
That strives to learn what Heaven refolves to hide;
Vain is the fearch, prefumptuous and abhorr'd,
Anxious to thee, and odious to thy lord.
Let this fuffice; th' immutable decree
No force can shake: what is, that ought to be.
Goddess submit, nor dare our will withstand,
But dread the power of this avenging hand;
Th' united strength of all the Gods above
In vain refifts th' omnipotence of Jove.
The Thunderer spoke, nor durft the Queen reply:
A reverend horror filenc'd all the sky.
The feaft difturb'd, with forrow Vulcan faw
His Mother menac'd, and the Gods in awe;
Peace at his heart, and pleasure his defign,
Thus interpos'd the Archite& Divine :
The wretched quarrels of the mortal state
Are far unworthy, Gods! of your debate :
Let men their days in fenfeless strife employ,
We, in eternal peace and constant joy.
Thou Goddess-mother, with our fire comply,
Nor break the facred union of the sky;
Left, rouz'd to rage, he shake the bleft abodes,
Launch the red lightning, and dethrone the Gods.
If you submit, the Thunderer ftands appeas'd;
The gracious power is willing to be pleas'd.
Thus Vulcan spoke; and rifing with a bound
The double bowl with sparkling nectar crown'd,
Which held to Juno in a chearful
way,
Goddess (he cried) be patient and obey.
Dear as you are, if Jove his arm extend,
I can but grieve, unable to defend.
What God fo daring in your aid to move,
Or lift his hand against the force of Jove?
Once in
your caufe I felt his matchless might,
Hurl'd headlong downward from th' etherial height; Toft all the day in rapid circles round;
Nor till the fun defcended, touch'd the ground:
Breathless I fell, in giddy motions loft;
The Sinthians rais'd me on the Lemnian coast.
He said, and to her hands the goblet heav'd
Which, with a smile, the white-arm'd queen receiv'd.
Then to the reft he fill'd; and in his turn,
Each to his lips apply'd the nectar'd urn.
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