One ftratagem has fail'd, and others will:
Ye find, Achilles is unconquer'd ftill.
Go then-digeft my meflage as you may;
But here this night let rev'rend Phoenix ftay:
His tedious toils and hoary hairs demand
A peaceful death in Pthia's friendly land.
But, whether he remain or fail with me,
His age be facred, and his will be free.

The fun of Peleus ceas'd: the chiefs around,
In filence wrapt, in confternation drown'd,
Attend the ftern reply. Then Phoenix rofe;
(Down his white beard a ftream of forrow flows)
And while the fate of fuff'ring Greece he mourn'd,
With accent weak thefe tender words return'd:
Divine Achilles! wilt thou then retire,
And leave our hofts in blood, our fleets on fire?
If wrath fo dreadful fill thy ruthless mind,
How fhall thy friend, thy Phoenix, ftay behind?
The royal Peleus, when from Pthia's coaft
He fent thee early to the Achaian hoft;
Thy youth as then in fage debates unskill'd,
And new to perils of the direful field;
He bade me teach thee all the ways of war;
To fhine in councils, and in camps to dare.
Never, ah never, let me leave thy fide!
No time fhall part us, and no fate divide.

Your fire receiv'd me, as his fon carefs'd, With gifts enrich'd, and with poffethions blefs'd. The ftrong Dolopians thenceforth own'd my reign, And all the coaft that runs along the main. By love to thee his bounties I repaid, And carly wifdom to thy foul convey'd: Great as thou art, my leffons made thee brave, A child I took thee, but a hero gave. Thy infant breaft a like affection fhew'd; Still in my arms (an ever-pleafing load), Or at my knce, by Phoenix wouldst thou ftand; No food was grateful but from Phoenix' hand. I pafs my watchings o'er thy helpless years, The tender labours, the compliant cares ; The gods (I thought) revers'd their hard decree, And Phoenix felt a father's joys in thee: Thy growing virtues juftified my cares, And promis'd comfort to my filver hairs. Now be thy rage, thy fatal rage, refign'd; A cruel heart ill fuits a manly mind: The gods (the only great, and only wife) Are mov'd by off rings, vows, and facrifice; Offending man their high compaflion wins, And daily pray'rs atone for daily fins. Pray'rs are Jove's daughters, of celestial race, Lame are their feet, and wrinkled is their face; With humble mien, and with dejected eyes, Conftant they follow, where injuftice flies: Injustice fwift, erect, and unconfin'd, Sweeps the wide earth, and tramples o'er mankind; [behind.

While pray'rs, to heal her wrongs, move flow. Who hears thefe daughters of almighty Jove, For him they mediate to the throne above: When man rejects the humble fuit they make, The fire revenges for the daughters' fake; From Jove commiffion'd, fierce Injustice then Defcends, to punish unrelenting men,

O let not headlong paffion bear the fway;
Thefe reconciling goddeffes obey:
Due honours to the feed of Jove belong;
Due honours calm the fierce, and bend the ftrong.
Were thefe not paid thee by the terms we bring,
Were rage ftill harbour'd by the haughty king,
Nor Greece, nor all her fortunes, fhould engage
Thy friend to plead against so just a rage.
But fince what honour afks, the gen'ral fends,
And fends by those whom most thy heart con
mends,

The beft and nobleft of the Grecian train;
Permit not these to fue, and fue in vain!
Accept the prefents; draw thy conq'ring fword;
And be amongst our guardians gods ador❜d.

Thus he. The ftern Achilles thus replied: My fecond father, and my rev'rend guide, Thy friend, believe me, no fuch gifts demands, And asks no honours from a mortal's hands: Jove honours me, and favours my designs; His pleasure guides me, and his will confines: And here I ftay (if fuch his high beheft), While life's warm spirit beats within my breaft. Yet hear one word, and lodge it in thy heart: No more moleft me on Atrides' part. Is it for him thefe tears are taught to flow, For him these forrows for my mortal foe? A gen'rous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one refentment glows; One fhould our int'refts and our paffions be; My friend muft hate the man that injures me. Do this, my Phoenix, 'tis a gen'rous part, And share my realms, my honours, and my heart. Let these return: our voyage, or our ftay, Reft undetermin'd till the dawning day.

He ceas'd; then order'd for the fage's bed A warmer couch with num'rous carpets spread. With that, stern Ajax his long filence broke; And thus impatient to Ulyffes fpoke :

Hence let us go-why wafte we time in vain? See what effect our low fubmiffions gain! Lik'd or not lik'd, his words we must relate; The Greeks expect them, and our heroes wait Proud as he is, that iron heart retains Its ftubborn purpofe, and his friends difdains. Stern and unpitying! if a brother bleed, On juft atonement we remit the deed; A fire the flaughter of his fon forgives; The price of blood discharg'd, the murd'rer

lives:

The haughtieft hearts at length their rage refign,
And gifts can conquer ev'ry foul but thine.
The gods that unrelenting breast have steel'd,
And curs'd thee with a mind that cannot yield.
One woman flave was ravifh'd from thy arms;
Lo, feven are offer'd, and of equal charms.
Then hear, Achilles, be of better mind;
Revere thy roof, and to thy guests be kind;
And know the men, of all the Grecian hoft,
Who honour worth, and prize thy valour most,

O foul of battles, and thy people's guide!
(To Ajax thus the first of Greeks replied)
Well haft thou fpoke; but at the tyrant's name
My rage rekindles, and my foul's on flame :

"Tis

'Tis juft refentment, and becomes the brave;
Difgrac'd, difhonour'd, like the vileft flave!
Return then, heroes! and our answer bear,
The glorious combat is no more my care;
Not till, amidst yon finking navy flain,
The blood of Greeks fhall dye the fable main;
Not till the flames, by Hector's fury thrown,
Confume your veffels, and approach my own;
Juft there the impetuous homicide fhall ftand,
There ceafe his battle, and there feel our hand.

§ 2. Conference between Achilles and Hedor, at the Time of that Engagement which proved fatal to the lafi-mentioned Hero.

E

NOUGH, O fon of Peleus! Troy has view'd
Her walls thrice circled, and her chief purfued.
But now fome god within me bids me try
Thine or my fate; I kill thee, or I die.
Yet on the verge of battle let us ftay,
And for a moment's fpace fufpend the day;
Let Heaven's high pow'rs be call'd to arbitrate
The juft conditions of this ftern debate
(Eternal witneffes of all below,

And faithful guardians of the treafur'd vow).
To them I fwear; if, victor in the ftrife,
Jove by thefe hands fhall thed thy noble life,
No vile difhonour fhall thy corpfe purfue;
Stript of its arms alone (the conqueror's due)
The reft to Greece uninjur'd I'll reftore:
Now plight thy mutual oath, I afk no more.

Talk not of oaths (the dreadful chief replies, While anger flash'd from his difdainful eyes) Detefted as thou art, and ought to be,

Nor oath nor pact Achilles plights with thee:
Such pacts as lambs and rapid wolves combine,
Such leagues as men and furious lions join,
To fuch I call the gods! one conftant state
Of lafting rancour and eternai hate:
No thought but rage, and never-ceafing ftrife,
Till death extinguifh rage, and thought, and life.
Roufe then thy forces this important hour,
Collect thy foul, and call forth all thy pow'r.
No farther fubterfuge, no farther chance;
'Tis Palias, Pallas, gives thee to my lance.
Each Grecian ghoft by thee depriv'd of breath,
Now hovers round, and calls thee to thy death.

§ 3. Speeches of Achilles and Hector, after the laft-mentioned Hero was mortally wounded. AT latt is Hector ftretch'd upon the plain, Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus flain: Then, prince! you should have fear'd what now you feel;

Achilles abient was Achilles ftill.

Yet a fhort space the great avenger ftay'd,
Then low in duft thy ftrength and glory laid.
Peaceful he fleeps, with all our rites adorn'd,
For ever honour'd, and for ever mourn'd:
While, caft to all the rage of hoftile pow'r,
Thee birds fhall mangle, and the dogs devour.
Then Hector, fainting at th' approach of death:
own foul! by thofe who gave thee breath!

By thy

By all the facred prevalence of pray'r;
Ah, leave me not for Grecian dogs to tear!
The common rites of fepulture beftow,
To foothe a father's and a mother's woe;
Let their large gifts procure an urn at least,
And Hector's athes in his country reft.

No, wretch accurft, relentless he replies, (Flames, as he spoke, fhot flashing from his eyes) Not thofe who gave me breath fhould bid me fpare, Nor all the facred prevalence of pray'r. Could I myfelf the bloody banquet join! No to the dogs that carcafe I refign. Should Troy, to bribe me, bring forth all her store, And giving thoufands, offer thousands more; Should Dardan Priam, and his weeping dame, Drain their whole realm to buy one fun'ral flame; Their Hector on the pile they fhould not see, Nor rob the vultures of one limb of thee.

Then thus the chief his dying accents drew Thy rage, implacable! too well I knew: The furies that relentless breast have steel'd, And curft thee with a heart that cannot yield. Yet think, a day will come, when fate's decree, And angry gods, fhall wreak this wrong on thee, Phoebus and Paris fhall avenge my fate,

And ftretch thee here before this Scaan gate.

§ 4. Heltor and Ajax. Generosity of Courage in thefe Heroes. Dialogue between them. HECTOR! approach my arm, and fingly know

What ftrenth thou haft, and what the Gre

cían foe.

Achilles fhuns the fight; yet fome there are,
Not void of foul, and not unfkill'd in war:
Let him, unactive, on the fea-beat fhore
Indulge his wrath, and aid our arms no more:
Whole troops of heroes Greece has yet to boat;
And fends thee one, a fample of her host;
Such as I am, I come to prove thy might;
No more be fudden, and begin the light.

O fon of Telamon, thy country's pride!
(To Ajax thus the Trojan prince replied)
Me, as a boy or woman, wouidft thou fright,
New to the field, and trembling at the fight?
Thou meet'ft a chief deferving of thy arms,
To combat born, and bred amidft alarms:
I know to fhift my ground, remount the car,
Tura, charge, and answer ev'ry call of war;
To right, to left, the dext'rous lance I wield,
And bear thick battle on my founding shield.
But open be our fight, and bold each blow;
I fteal no conqueft from a noble foe.

He gave the Greek. The gen'rous Greek beftow'd

A radiant belt that rich with purple glow'd.

§ 6. Character of Agamemnon. THE king of kings, majeftically tall,

Tow'rs o'er his armies, and outshines them all: Like fome proud bull that round the paftures leads His fubject herds, the monarch of the meads. Great as the gods th' exalted chief was feen, His ftrength like Neptune, and like Mars his mien; Jove o'er his eyes celcftial glories fpread, And dawning conqueft play'd around his head.

$ 7. Agamemnon's Speech to Menelaus, when be was about to fpare the Life of a young Trojan. IMPOTENT of mind!

-0 Shall thefe, fhall thefe Atrides mercy find? Well haft thou known proud Troy's perfidious land,

And well her natives merit at thy hand!
Not one of all the race, nor fex, nor age,
Shall fave a Trojan from our boundless
Ilion fhall perish whole, and bury all;
rage:
Her babes, her infants at the breaft, fhall fall.

§ 8. Speech of Ulyffes to Agamemnon, when the
latter propofed to quit the Phrygian Coaft; in
which Agamemnon is accufed of Cowardice.
THE fage Ulyffes thus replies, [eyes:
While anger flash'd from his difdainful
What shameful words, unkingly as thou art,
Fall from that trembling tongue, and tim'rous
heart!

O were thy fway the curfe of meaner pow'rs,
And thou the fhame of any hoft but ours!
A hoft by Jove endued with martial might,
And taught to conquer, or to fall in fight:
Advent'rous combats and bold wars to wage,
Employ'd our youth, and yet employs our age.
And wilt thou thus defert the Trojan plain?
And have whole ftreams of blood been ipilt in

vain ?

In fuch bafe fentence if thou couch thy fear,
Speak it in whispers, left a Greck fhould hear.
Lives there a man fo dead to fame, who dares
To think fuch meannefs, or the thought declares?
And comes it even from him whofe fovereign fway
The banded legions of all Greece obey?
Is this a gen'ral's voice, that calls to fight
While war hangs doubtful, while its foldiers fight?
What more could Troy? What yet their fate
denies

Thou gav't the foe: all Greece becomes their prize.

No more the troops (our hoifted fails in view, Themselves abandon'd) fhall the fight pursue; Thy fhips first flying with defpair thall fee, And owe destruction to a prince like thee.

4.

§ 9. Diomed's Reproach of Agamemnon. WHEN kings advife us to renounce our fame,

Firft let him fpeak who first has fuffer'd fhame. If I oppose thee, prince, thy wrath withheld, The laws of council bid my tongue be bold. Thou first, and thou alone, in fields of fight, Durst brand my courage, and defame my might: Nor from a friend th`unkind reproach appear'd; The Greeks ftood witnefs, all the army heard. The gods, O chief! from whom our honours The gods have made thee but by halves a king; fping, They gave thee fceptres, and a wide command, They gave dominion o'er the feas and land, The nobleft pow'r that might the world controul They gave thee not-a brave and virtuous foul. Is this a gen'ral's voice, that would fuggeft Fears like his own to ev'ry Grecian breast? Confiding in our want of worth he stands, Go, thou inglorious! from th' embattled plain; And, if we fly, 'tis what our king commands. Ships thou haft ftore, and nearest to the main. A nobler care the Grecians fhall employ, To combat, conquer, and extirpate Troy.

Spleen to mankind his envious heart poffefs'd,
And much he hated all, but most the best.
Ulyffes or Achilles ftill his theme;
But royal fcandal his delight fupreme.
Long had he liv'd the fcorn of ev'ry Greek,
Vex'd when he spoke, yet ftill they heard him fpeak.
Sharp was his voice; which, in the fhrillest tone, |
Thus with injurious taunts attack'd the throne:
Amidft the glories of fo bright a reign,
What moves the great Atrides to complain?
'Tis thine whate'er the warrior's breaft inflames,
The golden fpoil, and thine the lovely dames.
With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow,
Thy tents are crowded, and thy chefts o'erflow.
Thus at full cafe, in heaps of riches roll'd,
Say, thall we march with our unconquer'd pow'rs,
What grieves the monarch? Is it thirft of gold:
(The Greeks and I) to Ilion's hoftile tow'rs,
And bring the race of royal baftards here,
For Troy to ranfom at a price too dear?
But fafer plunder thy own hoft fupplies;
Say, wouldst thou feize fome valiant leader's prize?
Or, if thy heart to gen rous love be led,
Some captive fair, to blefs thy kingly bed?
Whate'er our mafter craves, fubmit we muft,
Plagued with his pride, or punish'd for his luft.
O women of Achaia! men no more!
Hence let us fly, and let him waste his store
In love and pleafures on the Phrygian fhore.
We may be wanted on fome bufy day,
When Hector comes; fo great Achilles may:
From him he forc'd the prize we jointly gave,
From him the fierce, the fearlefs, and the brave:
And durft he, as he ought, refent that wrong,
This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long.

Fierce from his feat, at this, Ulyffes fprings,
In gen'rous vengeance of the king of kings;
With indignation fparkling in his eyes,
He views the wretch, and fternly thus replies:
Peace, factious monfter, bern to vex the ftate,
With wrangling talents, form'd for foul debate:
Curb that impetuous tongue; nor rafhly vain,
And fingly mad, afperfe the fov'reign reign.
Have we not known thec, flave! of all our hoft,
The man who acts the leaft, upbraids the moft?
Think not the Greeks to fhameful flight to bring,
Nor let thofe lips profane the name of king.
For our return we truft the heavenly pow'rs;
Be that their care, to fight like men be ours.
But
grant the hoft with wealth the gen`ral load;
Except detraction, what haft thou bestow'd?
Suppofe fome hero fhould his fpoils refign,
Art thou that hero, could those spoils be thine?
Gods! let me perith on this hateful fhore,
And let thefe eyes behold my fon no inore;
If, on thy next offence, this hand forbear
To ftrip thofe arms thou ill deferv'ft to wear,
Expel the council where our princes meet,
And fend thee fcourg'd and howling thro' the

filcet.

He faid, and cow'ring as the daftard bends, The weighty fceptre on his back defcends: On the round bunch the bloody tumors rife; The tears spring starting from his haggard eyes:

Trembling he fate; and, fhrunk in abject fears,
From his vile vifage wip'd the fcalding tears.
While to his neighbour each exprefs'd his thought:
Ye gods! what wonders has Ulyffes wrought!
What fruits his conduct and his courage yield!
Great in the council, glorious in the field.
Gen'rous he rifes in the crown's defence,
To curb the factious tongue of infolence.
Such juft examples on offenders fhewn,
Sedition filence, and affert the throne.

§ 12. Helen's Lamentation over He&tor's dead Body. Now twice ten years, unhappy years! are o'er AH dearcft friend! in whom the gods had join'd The mildeft manners with the braveft mind; Since Paris brought me to the Trojan shore; (O had I perifh'd e'er that form divine Seduc'd this foft, this cafy heart of mine!) Yet was it ne'er my fate, from thee to find A deed ungentle, or a word unkind: When others curs'd the auth'refs of their woe, Thy pity check'd my forrows in their flow: If fome proud brother eyed me with disdain, Or fcornful fifter with her fweeping train, Thy gentle accents foften'd all my pain. For thee I mourn; and mourn myself in thee, The wretched fource of all this mifery!

§ 13. Retreat of Ajax. AJAX he thuns, thro' all the dire debate,

And fears that arm whofe force he felt fo late. But partial Jove, efpoufing Hector's part, Shot heaven-bred horror thro' the Grecian's heart; Confus'd, unnerv'd in Hector's prefence grown, Amaz'd he food, with terrors not his own. O'er his broad back his moony fhield he threw, And glaring round, by tardy steps withdrew. Thus the grim lion his retreat maintains, Befet with watchful dogs, and fhouting fwains; Repuls'd by numbers from the nightly stalls, Tho' rage impels him, and tho' hunger calls, Long ftands the fhow'ring darts, and miffile fires; Then fourly flow th' indignant beast retires. So turn'd ftern Ajax, by whole hofts repell'd, While his fwoln heart at every step rebell'd.

As the flow beaft with heavy ftrength endued, In fome wild field by troops of boys purfued, Tho' round the fides a wooden tempeft rain, Crops the tall harveft, and lays wafte the plain; Thick on his fides the hollow blows refound, The patient animal maintains his ground, Scarce from the field with all their efforts chas'd, And ftirs but flowly when he ftirs at last. On Ajax thus a weight of Trojans hung, The ftrokes redoubled on his buckler rung; Confiding now in bulky ftrength he stands, Now turns, and backward bears the yielding

bands:

Now ftiff recedes, yet hardly feems to fly, And threats his followers with retorted eye.