English

All night the Chiefs before their vessels lay,
And lost in sleep the labours of the day:
All but the King; with various thoughts opprest,
His country's cares lay rowling in his breast.
As when by light'nings Jove 's aetherial pow'r
Foretells the ratling hail, or weighty show'r,
Or sends soft snows to whiten all the shore,
Or bids the brazen throat of war to roar;
By fits one flash succeeds, as one expires,
And heav'n flames thick with momentary fires.
So bursting frequent from Atrides ' breast,

Thus joyful Troy maintain'd the watch of night;
While Fear, pale comrade of inglorious flight,
And heav'n-bred horrour, on the Grecian part,
Sate on each face, and sadden'd ev'ry heart.
As from its cloudy dungeon issuing forth,
A double tempest of the west and north
Swells o'er the sea, from Thracia 's frozen shore,
Heaps waves on waves, and bids th' Ægean roar;
This way and that, the boiling deeps are tost;
Such various passions urg'd the troubled host.
Great Agamemnon griev'd above the rest;

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 heav'ns attentive trembled as he spoke.
Celestial states, immortal Gods! give ear,
Hear our decree, and rev'rence what ye hear;
The fix'd decree which not all heav'n can move;
Thou Fate! fulfill it; and ye pow'rs! approve!
What God but enters yon' forbidden field,

So spoke the guardian of the Trojan state,
Then rush'd impetuous thro' the Scaean gate.
Him Paris follow'd to the dire alarms;
Both breathing slaughter, both resolv'd in arms.
As when to sailors lab'ring thro' the main,
That long had heav'd the weary oar in vain,
Jove bids at length th' expected gales arise;
The gales blow grateful, and the vessel flies:
So welcome these to Troy 's desiring train;
The bands are chear'd, the war awakes again.
Bold Paris first the work of death begun,

Now heav'n forsakes the fight: Th' immortals yield
To human force and human skill, the field:
Dark show'rs of javelins fly from foes to foes;
Now here, now there, the tyde of combate flows;
While Troy 's fam'd streams that bound the deathful plain
On either side run purple to the main.
Great Ajax first to conquest led the way,
Broke the thick ranks, and turn'd the doubtful day.
The Thracian Acamas his faulchion found,
And hew'd th' enormous giant to the ground;
His thundring arm a deadly stroke imprest

But Pallas now Tydides ' soul inspires,
Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires,
Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise,
And crown her Hero with distinguish'd praise.
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray;
Th' unweary'd blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires th' autumnal skies,
When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight,
And bath'd in Ocean, shoots a keener light.
Such Glories Pallas on the chief bestow'd,

And now Olympus ' shining gates unfold;
The Gods, with Jove , assume their Thrones of Gold:
Immortal Hebe , fresh with bloom divine,
The golden goblet crowns with purple wine:
While the full bowls flow round, the pow'rs employ
Their careful eyes on long-contended Troy .
When Jove , dispos'd to tempt Saturnia 's spleen,
Thus wak'd the fury of his partial Queen.
Two pow'rs divine the son of Atreus aid,
Imperial Juno , and the martial maid;
But high in heav'n they sit, and gaze from far,

Thus by their leader's care each martial band
Moves into ranks, and stretches o'er the land.
With shouts the Trojans rushing from afar
Proclaim their motions, and provoke the war:
So when inclement winters vex the plain
With piercing frosts, or thick-descending rain,
To warmer seas the cranes embody'd fly,
With noise, and order, thro' the mid-way sky;
To pygmy nations wounds and death they bring,
And all the war descends upon the wing.
But silent, breathing rage, resolv'd, and skill'd
By mutual aids to fix a doubtful field,

Now pleasing sleep had seal'd each mortal eye,
Stretch'd in the tents the Grecian Leaders lie,
Th' immortals slumber'd on their thrones above;
All, but the ever-wakeful eyes of Jove .
To honour Thetis ' son he bends his care,
And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war:
Then bids an empty Phantome rise to sight,
And thus commands the Vision of the night.
Fly hence, deluding Dream ! and light as air,
To Agamemnon 's ample tent repair.
Bid him in arms draw forth th' embattel'd train,

Achilles ' Wrath, to Greece the direful spring
Of woes unnumber'd, heav'nly Goddess, sing!
That Wrath which hurl'd to Pluto 's gloomy reign
The Souls of mighty Chiefs untimely slain;
Whose limbs unbury'd on the naked shore
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore:
Since Great Achilles and Atrides strove,
Such was the sov'reign doom, and such the will of Jove !
Declare, O Muse! in what ill-fated hour
Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended pow'r?
Latona 's son a dire contagion spread,