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OVER THE DEAD BODY OF HECTOR.

Then caught his hands, and kiss'd and press’d them. And there, with tears and sighs, afresh begut close,

To mourn the fall of his ill-fated son.
Those hands, th' inhuman authors of his woes; But passion different ways Achilles turns,
Those hands, whose unrelenting force had cost Now he Patroclus, now his father, mourns :
Much of his blood (for many sons he lost). Thus both with lamentations fll'd the place,

But, as a wretch who has a murder done, Till sorrow seem'd to wear one common face.
And, seeking refuge, does from justice run,
Entering some house, in haste, where he's unknown,
Creates amazement in the lookers-on:
So did Achilles gaze, surpris'd to see

THE LAMENTATIONS OF
The godlike Priam's royal misery;
All on each other gaz'd, all in surprise,

HECUBA, ANDROMACHE, AND HELEN,
And mute, yet seein'd to question with his eyes,
Till he at length the solemn silence broke ;
And thus the venerable suppliant spoke :

TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER, ILIAD file “ Divine Achilles, at your feet behold A prostrate king, in wretchedness grown old :

Beginning at the line: Think on your father, and then look on me,

'Hώς δε κροκόσιαλος έκίδνατο πάσαν επ' αίαν. His hoary age and helpless person see; So furrow'd are his cheeks, so white his hairs, Such, and so many, his declining years ; Could you imagine (but that cannot be)

CONNECTION OF THIS WITH THE FORMER TRANSLATION. Could you imagine such, his misery! Yet it may come, when he shall be oppressid, Priam, at last, moves Achilles to compassion, and, And neighbouring princes lay his country waste ; after having made him presents of great ralue, Evin at this time, perhaps, some powerful fue, obtains the body of his son. Mercury awakens Who will no mercy, no compassion, show,

Priam early in the morning, and advises him to Entering bis palace, sees him feebly fly,

haste away with the body, lest Agamemnon And seek protection where no help is nigh.

should be informed of his being in the camp: In vain he may your fatal absence mourn,

he himself helps to harness the mules and horses, And wish, in vain, for your delay'd return;

and conveys him safely, and without noise, cha. Yet, that he hears you live, is some relief;

riot and all, from among the Grecian tents; Some hopes alleviate his excess of grief';

then flies up to Heaven, leaving Priam and luxus It glads his soul to think he once may see

to travel on with the body toward Troy. His much-lov'd son; would that were granted

me !

Are now,

But I, most wretched I ! of all bereft!
Of all my worthy sons how few are left !

Now did the saffron morn her beams display, Yet fifty goodly youths I had to boast,

Gilding the face of universal day; When first the Greeks invaded Ilion's coast: When mourning Priam to the town return'd; Nineteen, the joyful issue of one womb,

Slowly his chariot mov’d, as that had mourn'd; alas! a mournful tribute of one tomb. The mules beneath the mangled body go, Merciless War this devastation wrought,

As bearing (now) unusual weight of woe. And their strong nerves to dissolution brought. To Pergamus' high top Cassandra flies,

“ Still one was left, in whom was all my bope, Thence she afar the sad procession spies : My age's comfort, and his country's prop;

Her father and Idæus first appear, Hector, my darling, and my last defence,

Then Hector's corpse extended on a bier; Whose life alone their deaths could recompense ;

At which her boundless grief loud crics began,
And, to complete my store of countless toe, And, thus lamenting, through the street she rain:
Him you have slain—of him bereav'd me too! “ Hither, ye wretched Trojans, hither all!
For his sake only hither am I coine;

Behold the godlike Hcctor's funeral !
Rich gifts I bring, and wealth, an endless sum; If e'er you went with joy to see him come,
All to redeem that fatal prize you won,

Adorn'd with conquerst and with laurels, home, A worthless ransom for so brave a son.

Assemble now, his ransom'd body see, “ Fear the just gods, Achilles ; and on me What once was all your joy; now all your misery'* With pity look, think you your father see ;

She spake, and straight the numerous crowd Such as I am, he is; alone in this,

obey'd, I can no equal have in iniscries;

Nor man, nor woman, in the city stay'd; Of all mankind most wretched and forlorn,

Common consent of grief had made them one, Bow'd with such weight as never has been borne; Witli clamorons moan to Scæa's gate they run, Reduc'd to kneel and pray to you, from whom There the lov'd body of their Hector meet, The spring and source of all my sorrows come; Which they, with loud and fresh lamentings, greet With gifts to court mine and my country's bane, His rever nd mother, and his tendor wife, And kiss those hauds which have my children slain.” Equal in love, in grif had «qual strife: He spake

In sorrow they 10 moderation kw, Now sadness o'er Achilles' face appears,

But, wildly wailing, to the chariot few; Priam he views, and for his father fears;

There strore the rolling wheels to hold, while each That, and compassion, melt hiin into tears. Attempted first his breathless corpse to reach ; Then gently with his hand he put away

Aloud they beat their breasts; and tore their hair, Old Prian's face; but he still prostrate lay, Rending around, with shrieks, the suffering an.

ANDROMACHE, HECUBA, AND HELEN'S LAMENTATIONS. 277
Now had the throng of people stopt the way,
Who would have there lamented all the day;

HECUBA'S LAMENTATION.
But Priam from his chariot rose, and spake :
Trojańs, enough; truce with your worrows make; Than all my other numerous issue were;

“ Hector, my joy, and to my soul more dear Give way to me, and yield the chariot room:

O my last comfort, and my best-belov'd! First let me bear my Hector's body home,

Thou, at whose fall even Jove himself was mov'd, Then mourn your fill.” At this the crowd gave

And sent a god his dread commands to bear, Yielding like waves of a divided sea. (way,

So far thou wert high Heaven's peculiar care ; Idæus to the palace drove, then laid,

From fierce Achilles' chains thy corpse was freed, With care, the body on a sumptuous bed,

So kind a fate was for none else decreed: And round about were skilful singers placd,

My other sons, made prisoners by his hands, Who wept, and sigh'd, and in sad notes express'd

Were sold like slaves, and shipt to foreign lands. Their moan; all in a chorus did agree

Thou too wert sentenc'd by his barbarous doom, Of universal mournful barmony,

And dragg'd, when dead, about Patroclus' tomb, When first Andromache her passion broke,

His lov'd Patroclus, whom thy hands had slain : And thus (close pressing his pale cheeks) she

And yet that cruelty was us'd in vain, spoke ;

Since all could not restore his life again.

Now fresh and glowinc, ev'n in death thou art, ANDROMACHE'S LAMENTATION.

And fair as he who fell by Phæbus' dart.” “O my lost husband! let me ever mourn

Here weeping Hecuba her passion stay'd,

And universal moan again was made; Thy early fate, and too untimely urn:

When Helen's lamentation her's supply'd, In the full pride of youth thy glories fade,

And thus, aloud, that fatal beauty cry'd.
And thou in ashes must with them be lajd.
“ Why is my heart thus miserably torn!

HELEN'S LAMENTATION.
Why am I thns distress'd! why thus forlorn !
Am I that wretched thing a widow left?

“ O Hector! thou sert rooted in my heart, Why do I live, who am of thee bereft?

No brother there had half so large a part! Yet I were blest, were I alone undone ;

Not less than twenty years are now pass’d o'er, Alas, my child! where can an infant run?

Since first I landed on the Trojan shore; Unhappy orphan ! thou in woes art nurs’d; Since I with godlike Paris fled from home: Why were you born?-I am with blessings curs'a ! (Would I had dy'd before that day bad come !) For, long ere thou shalt be to manhood grown, In all which time (so gentle was thy mind) Wide desolation will lay waste this town:

I ne'er could charge thee with a deed unkind; Who is there now that can protection give,

Not one untender word, or look of scorn,
Since he, who was her strength, no more doth live? Which I too often have from otbers borne.
Who of her reverend matrons will have care? But you fru.nl their reproach still set me free,
Who save her children from the rage of war? And kindly have reprov'd their cruelty;
For he to all father and husband was,

If by my sisters or the queen revil'd,
And all are orphans now, and wi-lows, by his loss. (For the good king, like you, was ever mild)
Soon will the Grecians now insulting come,

Your kindness still las all my grief beguild.
And bear us captives to their distant homie; Ever in trars let me your loss bemoan,
1, with my child, must the same fortune share, Who had no friend aliv.. but you alone :
And all alike be prisoners of the war;

All will reproach me now where'er I pass,
'Mongst base-born wretches he his lot must have, And fly with berruur from my hated face."
And be to some inhuman lord a slave.

This said, she wept; and the vast throng was Else some avenging Greek, with fury fillid,

mov'd, Or for an only son or father kill'd

And with a general sigh ber grief approv’d. By Hector's hand, on him will vent his rage,

When Priam (who had beard the mourning crowd) And with bis blood his thirsty grief assuage; Rose from his scat, and thus he spake aloud : For many fell by his relentless hand, [sta in'd. “ Cease your lamentings, Trojans, for a while, Biting that ground, with which their blood was And fell down trees to build a funeral pile;

· Fierce was thy father (O my child!) in war, Fear not an ambush by the Grecians laid, And never did his foes in battle spare; [cost, For with Achilles twelve days truce I made.” Thence come these sufferings, which so much have He spake; and all obey'd as with one mind, Much woe to all, but sure to me the most. Chariots were brought, and mules and oxen join'd; I saw him not when in the pangs of death,

Forth from the city all the people went, Nor did my lips receive his latest breath;

And nine days space was in that labour spent ; Why held he not to me his dying hand ?

The tenth, a most stupendous pile they male, And why receiv'd not I his last command ?

And on the top the maply Hector laid, Something he would have said, bad I been there, Then gave it fire; while all, with weeping cycs, Which I should still in sad remembrance bear; Behold the rolling flames and smoke arise. For I could never, never words forget,

All night they wipt, and all the night it burn'd; Which night and day I should with tears repeat.” But when the rosy morn with day return'd,

She spake, and wept afresh, when all around About the vile the thronging people came, A gencral sigh diffus'd a mournful sound.

And with black wine quench'd the remaining flame, Then Hecuba, who long har been opprest

His brothers then and friends search'd every where, With boiling passions in her aged breast,

And, gathering up his snowy bones with care, Mingling ber words with sighs and tears, begun Wept o'er them; when an urn of gold was brought, A lamentation for her darling son.

Wrapt in sott purple palls, and richly wrought,

In which the sacred ashes were interr'd,

In vain's thy inexhausted store Then o'er his grave a monument they rear'd.

Of wealth, in vain thy power; Meantime strong guards were plac'd, and careful Thy honours, titles, all must fail, spies,

Where piety itself can nought avail.
To watch the Grecians, and prevent surprise. The rich, the great, the innocent, and just,
The work once ended, all the vast resort

Must all be huddled to the grave,
Of mourning people went to Priam's court; With the inost vile and ignominious slave,
There they refresh'd their weary limbs with rest, And undistinguish'd lic in dust.
Ending the funeral with a solemn feast.

In vain the fearful flies alarms,
In vain he is secure from wounds of arms,

In vain avoids the faithless seas,

And is contin'd to home and case,
PARAPHRASE UPON HORACE,

Bounding his knowledge, to extend his days.

In vain arc all those arts we try,
ODE XIX, LIB. I.

All our evasions, and regret to die:
Mater seva Cupidinuin, &c.

From the contagion of mortality,

No clime is pure, no air is free: Tus tyrant queen of soft desires,

And no retreat
With the resistless aid of sprightly wine

Is so obscure, as to be hid from Fate,
And wanton case, conspires
To make my heart its peace resign,

Thou must, alas ! thou must, my friend; And re-admit love's long-rejected fires.

(The very hour thou now dost spend For beauteous Glycera I burn,

In studying to avoid, brings on thy end) The flames so long repeil'd with double force return.

Thou must forego the dearest joys of life ; Matchless her face appears, :nd shines more bright and all the much-lovid offspring of her womb,

Leave the warm bosom of thy tender wife,
Than polish'd marble when reflecting light:
Her very coyness warms;

'To moulder in the cold embraces of a tomb. And with a grateful sullenness she charms:

All inust be left, and all be lost; Each look darts forth a thousand rays,

Thy house, whose stately structure so much cost,

Shall not afford
Whose lustre an unwary sight betrays;
My eye-balls swim, and I grow giddy while I gaze,

Room for the stinking carcase of its lord.

Of all thy pleasant gardens, grots, and bowers, She comes! she comes ! she rushes in my veins !

Thy costly fruits, thy far-fetch'd plants and At once all Venus enters, and at large she reigns !

flowers, Cyprus no more with her abode is blest,

Nought shalt thou save; I ain her palace, and her throne my breast.

Or but a sprig of rosemary shalt have, Of savage Scythian aris no more I write,

To wither with thee in the grave:
Of Parthian archers, who in flying fight,

The rest shall live and fourish, to upbraid
And make rough war their sport ;

Their transitory master dead.
Such idle themes no more can move,
Nor any thing but what's of high import:

Then shall thy long-expecting heir
And what's of high import, but love?

A joyful mourning wear : Vervain and gums, and the green turf prepare; And riot in the waste of that estate With wine of two years old your cups be fill’d : Which thou hast taken so much pains to get After our sacrifice and prayer,

All thy hid stores he shall unfold,
The goddess may incline her heart to yield. And set at large thy captive gold.

That precious wine, condenn'd by thee
· To vaults and prisons, shall again be free:

Bury'd alive though now it lies,
STANZAS

Agajn shall rise;
IX IMITATION OF HORACE,

Again its sparkling surface shom,

And free as element profusely flow,
LIB. II. ODE XIV,

With such high food he shall set forth his feasta,

That cardinals shall wish to be his guests ; Eheu fugaces, Posthume, Posthumne, Labuntur anni, &c.

And pamper'd prelates see

Themselves outdone in luxury.
Au! no, 'tis all in vain, believe me 'tis,

This pious artifice.
Not all these prayers and alms can buy
One moment tow'rd eternity.

IN IMITATION OF HORACE,
Eternity! that boundless race,

Which Time himself can never run
(Swift as he flies, with an unweary'd pace) :
Which, when ten thousand, thousand years are

Vides ut alta, &c,
Is still the same, and still to be begun. [done,
Pix'd are those limits, which prescribe

Bless

less me, 'tis cold ! how chill the air ! A short extent to the most lasting breath;

How naked does the world appear! And though thou could'st for sacrifice lay down But see (big with the offspring of the North) Millions of other lives to save thy own,

The teeming clouds bring forth : 'Twere fruitless all; not all would bribe

A shower of soft and fleecy rain One supernumerary gasp from Death,

Falls, to new-clothe the earth again

ODR IX. LIB. I.

RECITATIVE.

Behold the mountain-tops around,

SONG.
As if with fur of ermins crown'd;
And lo! how by degrees

I 200k'd, and I sigh’d, and I wish'd I could speak, The universal mantle hides the trees

And very tain would have been at her; In hoary Aakes, which downward fly,

But when I strove most my great passion to break, As if it were the autumn of the sky :

Still then I said Icast of the matter. Trembling, the groves sustain their weight, and I swore to myself, and resolv'd I would try bow

Some way my poor heart to recover; Like aged limbs, which feebly go

But that was all vain, for I sooner could die, Beneath a venerable head of snow.

Than live with forbearing to love her. Diffusive cold does the whole Earth invade,

Dear Cælia, be kind then; and since your own eyes Like a disease, through all its veins 'tis spread,

By looks can command adoration, And each late living stream is numb'd and dead.

Give mine leave to talk too, and do not despise Let's melt the frozen hours, make warm the

Those oglings that tell you my passion. air;

We'll look, and we'll love, and though neither Let cheerful fires Sol's feeble beams repair;

should speak, Fill the large bowl with sparkling wine;

The pleasure we'll still be pursuing; Let's drink till our own faces shine,

And so, without words, I don't doubt wo may make
Till we like suns appear,

A very good end of this wooing.
To light and warm the hemisphere.
Wine can dispense to all both light and heat,

They are with wine incorporate;
That powerful juice, with which no cold dares

THE RECONCILIATION.
mix,
Which still is fluid, and no frost can fix:
Let that but in abundance flow,

FAIR Cælia love pretended, And let it storm and thunder, hail and snow, And nam'd the myrtle bower, 'Tis Hearen's concern; and let it be

Where Damon long attended The care of Heaven still for me:

Beyond the promis'd hour. Those winds which rend the oaks and plough the

At length impatient growing
seas,

Of anxious expectation,
Great Jove can, if he please,

His heart with rage o'erflowing,
With one commanding nod appease.

He vented thus his passion.
Seek not to know to morrow's doom;
That is not ours, which is to come :

“ To all the sex deceitful, The present moment's all our store;

A long and last adieu; The next should Heaven allow,

Since women prove ungrateful Then this will be no more:

As oft as men prove true. So all our life is but one instant now,

The pains they cause are many, Look on each day you've past

And long and hard to bear; To be a mighty treasure won ;

'The joys they give (if any) And lay each moment out in haste;

Few, short, and unsincere.”
We're sure to live too fast,
And cannot live too soon.

But Cælia now, repenting
Youth doth a thousand pleasures bring,

Her breach of assignation, Which from decrepit age will fly;

Arriv'd with eyes consenting, The flowers that flourish in the spring,

And sparkling inclination, In winter's cold embraces die.

Like Cytherea smiling,

She blush'd, and laid his passion; Now Love, that everlasting boy, invites

The shepherd ceas'd reviling,
To revel, while you may, in soft delights:

And sung this recantation.
Now the kind nymph yields all her charms,
Nor yields in vain to youthful arms.
Slowly she promises at night to meet,

“ How engaging, how endearing, But eagerly prevents the hour with swifter feet.

Is a lover's pain and care !
To gloomy groves and shades obscure she flies, And what joy the nymph's appearing,
There veils the bright confession of her eyes.

After absence or despair!
Vnwillingly she stays,

Women wise increasc desiring,
Would more unwillingly depart,

By contriving kind delays;
And in soft sighs conveys

And advancing, or retiring,
The whispers of her heart.

All they mean is more to please.”
Still she invites and still denies,
And vows she'll leave you if you're rude;
Then from her ravisher she flies,
But Aies to be pursu'd;

ABSENCE.
If from his sight she does herself convey,
With a feign'd laugh she will herself betray,

Alas! what pains, what racking thoughts he proru And cunningly instruct him in the way.

Who lives remov'd from her he dearest luves!

ODE.

RECITATIVE

PALINODE.

In cruel absence doom'd past joys to mourn, Thus to almighty Love I cry'd,
And think on hours that will no more return! When angry thus the god reply'd:
Oh let me ne'er the pangs of absence try,

“ Blessings greater none can have, Save me from absence, Love, or let me die. Art thou not Amynta's slave?

Cease, fond mortal, to implore,

For Love, ev'n Love limself's no more."
SONG.
FALSE
ALSE though she be to me and love,
l'll ne'er pursue revenge ;

SONG.
For still the charmer I approve,

Cruel Amynta, can you see Though I deplore her change.

A heart thus torn, which you betray'd? In hours of bliss we oft have met,

Love of himself ne'er vanquish'd me, They could not always last;

But through your eyes the conquest made. And though the present I regret,

In ambush there the traitor lay,
I'm grateful for the past.

Where I was led by faithless smiles;
No wretches are so lost as they

Whom inuch security beguiles.
SONG IN DIALOGUE,

FOR TWO WOMEN.

SONG.
Ses, see, she wakes, Sabina wakes!

And now the Sun begins to rise ;
Less glorious is the morn that breaks

From his bright beams, than her fair eyess
With light united, day they give,

But different fates ere night fulfil ;
How many by his warmth will live!

How many will her coldness kill!

1. I love and am belov'd again,
Strephon no more shall sigh in vain;
I've try'd his faith, and found him true,
And all my coyness bid adieu.

2. I love, and am belov'd again,
Yet still my Thyrsis shall complain ;
I'm sure he's mine, while I refuse him,
But when I yield, I fear to lose him.

1. Men will grow faint with tedious fasting :

2. And both will tire with often tasting, When they find the bliss not lasting.

1. Love is complete in kind possessing.
2. Ah no ! ah no! that ends the blessing.

CHORUS OF BOTH.
Then let us beware how far we consent,
Too soon when we yield, too late we repent;
"Tis ignorance makes men admire;

And granting desire,

We feed not the fire,
But make it more quickly expire.

OCCASIONED BY

A LADY'S HAVING WRIT TERSES
IN COMMENDATION OF A POEM WHICH WAS WRITTEN

IN PRAISE OF ANOTHER LADY.
Hand is the task, and bold th’adventurous flight,
Of him, who dares in praise of beauty write;
For when to that high theme our thoughts ascend,
'Tis to detract, too poorly to commend.
And he, who, praising beauty, dots no wrong,
May boast to be successful in his song :
But when the fair themselves approve his lays,
And one accepts, and one vouchsafes to praise ;
His wide ambition knows no farther bound,
Nor can his Muse with brighter fame be crown'd.

SONG. TELL

ELL me no more I am deceived,

That Cloe's false and common;
I always knew (at least believ'd)

She was a very woman :
As such I lik’d, as such caress’d,
She still was constant when possessid,

She could do niore for no man.
But, oh! her thonghts on others ran,

And that you think a hard thing :
Perhaps she fancy'd you the man,

And what care I one farthing?
You think she's false, I'm sure she's kind;
I take her body, you her mind,

Who has the better bargain?

EPIGRAM,
WRITTEN AFTER THE DECEASE OP MRS. ARABELLA

HUNT, UNDER HER PICTURE DRAWN PLAYING ON

A LUTE.
W

ERE there on Farth another voice like thine,
Another hand so blest with skill divine !
The late aflicted world some hopes might ve,
And Harmony retrieve thee from the grave.

THE PETITION. GRANT me, gentle Love;” said I, « One dear blessing ere I die; Long I've borne excess of pain, Let me now some bliss obtain

SONG,
Prous Selinda goes to prayers,

If I but ask the favour;
And yet the tender fool's in tears,

When she believes P'll leave her.

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