Miscellaneous poems and translations :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Armies being ready to engage, a single Combat is agreed upon between Menelaus and Paris (by the Intervention of Hector) for the Determination of the War. Iris is to call Helena to behold the

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Fight, she leads her to the Walls of Troy, where Priam sate with his Counsellors observing the Græcian Leaders on the Plain below, to whom Helen gives an Account of the Chief of them. The Kings on either Part take the solemn Oath for the Conditions of the Combat. The Duel ensues, wherein Paris being overcome is snatched away in a Cloud by Venus, and transported to his Apartment. She then calls Helen from the Walls, and brings the Lovers together. Agamemnon on the Part of the Græcians, demands the Restoration of Helen, and the Performance of the Articles.

The three and twentieth Day still continues throughout this Book. The Scene is sometimes in the Fields before Troy, and sometimes in Troy itself.

When thus in Arms appear'd each warrior Host,
Rank'd with their Chiefs along th'embattled Coast;
Forth rush'd the Trojans with confus'd Alarms,
Press'd to the Field, and clash'd the Din of Arms,
So the shrill Cranes from wintry Regions fly,
Sound o'er the Main, and shake the echoing Sky,

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To pigmy Foes they steer their deadly Flight,
Fierce on their Wings descends th'aerial Fight;
But silent, firm, with mutual Valour strong,
All breathing Wrath the Greeks advanc'd along.
And as a mountain Mist glides o'er the Plains,
Friend to the Thieves, but fatal to the Swains,
When hazy Skies the distant View confound,
So the thick Cloud rose darkning from the Ground,
While to the Fight amidst the dusty Lands
Swift and impetuous drove the num'rous Bands.

When Foe to Foe the fierce Battalions stood
Forth issu'd Paris to the Field of Blood;
Plac'd in the Front before his Trojan Van
Fair as a God advanc'd the beauteous Man.
A Panther's Hide wav'd o'er his Arms, below
Gleam'd his bright Sword, and hung beside the Bow;

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He shook two brazen Spears with proud Disdain,
And dar'd the bravest Greek that crown'd the Plain.
Him when Atrides soon discern'd from far
Stalk with Defiance in the Front of War,
As the grim Lion with a fierce Delight
Views the fat Stag, and rouses at the Sight,
The captive Prize his hungry Jaws devour,
And Dogs and Men in vain oppose his Pow'r;
Thus Atreus' Son exults with furious Joy,
And quells in vengeful Thought the pride of Troy;
Arm'd from his Chariot with a clatt'ring Sound
Sprung the fierce Chief impetuous to the Ground,
Soon as the Warrior in his Front appear'd,
The conscious Ravisher beheld and fear'd,
Back he retir'd, and with disgraceful Flight
Screen'd by his Ranks declin'd the deadly Fight;

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As when a Traveller in the Mountain Brake
Views with a dread Surprize th'envenom'd Snake,
The Wretch with quick Recoil and trembling Pace
Starts shuddring back, and Fear appals his Face,
Struck with like Dread the Trojan Chief withdrew
Back to his Troops, and shun'd Atrides' View.

But Hector kindling at th'inglorious Sight
With brave Reproach upbraids his tim'rous Flight,
Unhappy Paris, whose deceitful Charms
Speak thee no Warrior but in Woman's Arms,
Oh! hadst thou never drawn this vital Breath,
Or sunk unmarried in th'Embrace of Death,
Rather than thus ill-fated to be born
Thy Country's Scandal, and the Grecians Scorn.
Gods! how they scoff to see their Fears mistook
Thy courtly Visage for a Champion's Look;

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But tho' thy Face a gallant Air impart,
That fair Disguise conceals a Coward's Heart.
Was this thy Valour when thy pompous Oars
Thro' foreign Seas explor'd the Spartan Shores;
When thou and thy Allies with impious Swords
Stole the fair Bride of two heroic Lords,
And to thy Father's Bane, thy Country's Woe,
Shame to thy self, but Triumph to the Foe,
Thy Hand convey'd with a destructive Joy
That fatal Beauty to the Walls of Troy;
And now thou dar'st not in thy Fair's Defence
Meet the just Anger of her injur'd Prince,
Soon would he show thee in th'unequal Strife
Thy Arm's too weak to keep Atrides' Wife.
Nor shall thy courtly Form, thy graceful Air,
Thy silver Cittern, and thy curling Hair;

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Those Gifts of Venus in that Day be found
Arm'd in thy Cause, when thou shalt press the Ground;
Had Troy dispens'd but Justice to her Foes,
The Grave on thee had well reveng'd her Woes.

To Hector thus the beauteous Chief confest,
Just is the Blame thy angry Voice exprest,
But where, brave Warrior, shall a Soul appear
Like thine impassive to the Shocks of Fear?
Strong as the Steel which nervous Artists wield
To fell those Trees that plow the watry Field,
Such is the Force thy vig'rous Heart bestows,
Such in thy Soul th'unwearied Valour glows.
But let not Hector's Might those Gifts disdain
Which golden Venus grants her fav'rite Swain,
Rare are the Gifts which Heav'n alone supplies,
No Wish commands these Favours of the Skies.

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Yet wouldst thou have me to the Combat yield,
First seat the Greeks and Trojans o'er the Field,
I'll meet Atrides in each Army's Sight
For Helen's Charms and Helen's Dow'r to fight,
And he whom Conquest shall adorn with Fame,
His be the Dow'r, and his the beauteous Dame.
Thus Friends and Foes may cease their warlike Toil,
And you possess fair Ilium's fertile Soil,
While they to Greece restore their shining Arms,
Greece fam'd for Steeds, and blest with Beauty's Charms.

He spoke, and Hector with a valiant Joy
Grasp'd his mid Spear, and stay'd the Bands of Troy,
Then bold into the midst the Warrior goes,
Mark'd by the Eyes of all his num'rous Foes,

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Thick fly the Stones, the whizzing Arrows glow,
Wing'd with fierce Aim from ev'ry Grecian Bow.

But thro' the Field thus cry'd the Imperial King,
Greece, stay thy Hand, nor draw the hostile String;
Great Hector's Motions would bespeak our Ear,
Known by his Plume and Signal of his Spear;
Th'offensive Arms the Greeks forbore to wield,
Aw'd by their King, and Silence still'd the Field.

Then in the midst to all the warrior Bands
Thus Hector spoke his Brother's bold Demands,
Ye Greeks and Trojans, hear the gen'rous Words
Which Paris sends, whose Quarrel draws your Swords.

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Let Greece and Troy no more in Arms appear,
Wide o'er the Plain be fix'd the glitt'ring Spear,
He'll meet Atrides in each Army's Sight,
For Helen's Charms and Helen's Dow'r to fight;
And he whom Conquest shall adorn with Fame,
His be the Dow'r and his the beauteous Dame,
Thus lasting Leagues shall heal our hostile Jars,
And mutual Peace compose th'alternate Wars.

He spoke, but all kept Silence at the Word,
'Till bold in Arms up rose fair Helen's Lord,
Hear me too, Warriors, for I grieve to see
The Wounds you've felt for Paris and for me;
But tho' we made these gallant Armies Foes,
This Hand, I trust, shall now dismiss your Woes,
Fall he alone on whom Destruction low'rs,
But you in Peace shall league your friendly Pow'rs.

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Be then, O Troy, the solemn Rites begun,
Two Lambs prepare ye for the Earth and Sun,
This God a White, and that a Black demands,
The third is Jove's from our majestic Hands.
Pledg'd for his Son's let Ilium's hoary King
Seal the strong League, and all his Sanctions bring;
His Sons no faith can fix, no Oaths can bind,
For Youth is rash, and wav'ring as the Wind,
Age by what's past what may be future sees,
And deep Experience forms its wise Decrees.

All heard and all approv'd him with Delight,
Rais'd with big Hopes to end the Toils of Fight,
Then quick descending from the lofty Car
Fix'd their bold Steeds beyond the Files of War;
Next from their Limbs the cumbrous Mail unbound,
And plac'd their glitt'ring Arms along the Ground;

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Join'd on all Sides appear'd the warrior Race,
Each by his Arms, and clos'd the crowded Space.
Then march'd great Hector's Delegates to bring
Troy's ritual Victims, and the rev'rend King;
Talthybius hasten'd to the naval Strand,
Obsequious Herald of his Lord's Command,
To bring the Lamb the peaceful Rites require,
Doom'd by the Greeks to Heav'n's immortal Sire.

Mean while to Helen wing'd Thaumantias came,
In Form she seem'd Antenor's kindred Dame
Laodice; 'twas thus the Goddess stood,
The fairest Nymph of Priam's princely Blood.
She at her Loom the beauteous Artist found,
The Trojan Wars emblaz'd the Texture round,
Wide o'er the Web full many a Hero's Doom,
Slain in her Cause was imag'd in her Loom.

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When thus advancing to the Royal Fair
Spoke the swift Maid who gilds the show'ry Air.

Approach, O fairest of thy Sex's Charms,
And see what Wonders grace the Field of Arms,
No Warrior fierce in bloody Fights t'engage,
Pants for the Foe or burns with martial Rage;
Prop'd on their Shields the silent Host appears,
Ceas'd are the Wars, and fix'd the brazen Spears.
Thy Spartan Lord and Paris only stay
Arm'd in thy Cause to end the bloody Day,
For thee their Spears the warlike Rivals wield,
Thee the fair Bride of him who wins the Field.

The Goddess spoke, and in the beauteous Dame
Wak'd the soft Image of her former Flame,

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Her Parents, Friends, and Country left behind
Glow'd in the Wishes of her anxious Mind;
She veil'd her Face, and rose with awful Fear,
Soft as she went distill'd the conscious Tear.
Behind were Clymene and Æthra seen,
Two fair Attendants of the lovely Queen;
Silent they mov'd towards the Scæan Gate,
Where round the King the Guardians of the State
Old Panthus, Clytius, and Thymœtes sate:
Lampus and Hicetaon, Sons of Mars,
Once brave in Arms, but now disus'd to Wars,
Antenor and Ucalegon renown'd
For sage Advice the grave Assembly crown'd;
That now no more in fighting Fields appears,
Now frail with Age, and talkative in Years,
Full weak their Voice, in such a feeble Strain
The Grashoppers chirp tuneful o'er the Plain.

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Th'approaching Beauty charm'd them to her Cause,
Wondring they gaz'd, and whisper'd their Applause,
Who now, they cry'd, this long, long War can blame?
Who would not fight for such a glorious Dame?
Bright as a Goddess an immortal Grace
Blooms in the Beauties of her heav'nly Face,
Yet take her hence, nor let that Face destroy
Fair as it is the future Hopes of Troy.

Thus all in Secret their Applauses spoke,
When rev'rend Priam first the Silence broke,
Approach, fair Helen, fix thy Seat by mine,
See from the Walls the Spouse who once was thine,
Thy Friends and Kindred of the Spartan Line;
Not thou, but Heav'n inspir'd these Grecian Foes
Heav'n the sole Cause of all my fatal Woes.

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But say what Greek is he who crowns the Field,
To whose bold Air the tallest Warriors yield,
Say from what Monarch did that Hero spring,
His Royal Gesture speaks that Greek a King.

Dread Sire, the fairest of her Sex replies,
Whose awful Presence bids my Fears arise,
Oh! had I dy'd, ere I by Flatt'ry won
Left my chaste Lord to wed thy fatal Son,
From both my Brothers, all my Friends to rove,
False to my Child, disloyal to my Love;
For this the conscious Anguish of my Shame
Flows into Tears, and wastes my feeble Frame.
But hear the Answer which my Sire demands,
Before your Eyes great Agamemnon stands,
The first who from the Line of Atreus springs,
The chief of Warriors, and the best of Kings,

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My Brother too, if yet my foul Disgrace
Allow me Sister of that gen'rous Race.

She ended, and the King with Wonder rais'd
View'd his brave Foe, and thus admiring prais'd,
Propitious Fates on thee, Atrides, shone,
What Realms in Arms attend thy crowded Throne!
A warlike Pow'r once grac'd the Phrygian Lands,
Brave Otreus' Troops and Mygdon's num'rous Bands,
Encamp'd with theirs my Trojan Squadrons stood,
Rang'd on the Banks of Sangar's gulphy Flood,
'Twas when we met the Amazonian Dames,
Bold all as Men, and breathing equal Flames;
Yet these must all in Force and Numbers yield,
Match'd with thy Greeks who fill the spacious Field.

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He said, and view'd the brave Ulysses round,
What's he, whose Arms lie prostrate on the Ground?
Large is his Bulk, his Breast is broader spread,
But wants the height of Agamemnon's Head;
He, like the Ram amidst his fleecy Train,
Runs thro' the Ranks, and orders all the Plain.

That Greek, reply'd the Progeny of Jove,
Speaks the fam'd Offspring of Laertes Love,
'Tis wise Ulysses, on her dreary Shore
Rough Ithaca th'experienc'd Warrior bore,
Rude is his Country, but the Hero's Name
Skill'd in deep Arts exalts his Country's Fame.

His Silence here the grave Antenor broke,
'Tis true, O Helen, what your Praises spoke,

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Greece did Ulysses and thy Prince employ
Sent in thy Cause her Delegates to Troy;
Both in my House a friendly Freedom shar'd,
I knew their Statures, and their Parts compar'd.
Atrides standing bore a loftier State,
But with superior Awe Ulysses sate;
When both their Gifts of Elocution show'd,
Atrides' Words with just Expression flow'd,
Few, but yet close, and plain but never dull,
All was sententious, and succinctly Full.
But when his artful Prudence to disclose
Forth from his Seat Ulysses gravely rose,
He fix'd his stedfast Eyes upon the Ground,
Nor rear'd his Hand, nor wav'd his Sceptre round,
But like the Form of stupid Dulness stood,
Or Madness thoughtful in his sullen Mood;

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Yet his Words follow'd, with a gentle Flow,
Soft, melting, copious as the wintry Snow,
Th'unrival'd Speech our just Applauses drew,
None judg'd Ulysses from a partial View.

The King then look'd on Ajax with Surprize,
What Greek is he who bears that monstrous Size?
High o'er the rest with Shoulders widely spread
Uprears the giant Chief his tow'ring Head.
'Tis warlike Ajax, said the beauteous Dame,
The valiant Bulwark of the Grecian Name.
The brave Idomeneus beyond him stands,
And seems a God amidst his Cretan Bands,
Our Seat did oft that Royal Guest detain,
When he from Crete to Sparta crost the Main.
Here could I name what other Greeks below
Rule the wide Field, for I the Warriors know:

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But two brave Chiefs to my enquiring Sight
Rise not among th'imperial Sons of Fight,
Pollux, who most in strength of Arms exceeds,
And Castor, skill'd to reign the fiery Steeds;
My valiant Brothers by a mix'd Embrace,
From one fair Mother sprung our princely Race.
Perhaps the Chiefs from Sparta's lovely Plain
Spread not their Sails along the stormy Main,
Or now refuse disgraceful Arms to wield,
Forc'd by my Shame to fly th'inglorious Field.

Thus she, but they in Death's Embraces bound
Slept in the Tomb beneath their native Ground.
And now the Heralds with a conscious Joy
Brought thro' the Town the Sacrifice of Troy:
Two votive Lambs, a Goat's distended Skin,
Whose Bulk inclos'd the sacred Wine within;

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Idæus brought an Urn of radiant Mold,
Join'd with the Cups whose Figures rose in Gold.
Skill'd in Address the obsequious Herald stood,
And thus bespoke the Sire of Trojan Blood.

Rise, Priam, rise, the Royal Warriors yield
To seal the League, and call thee to the Field,
In Helen's Cause two rival Chiefs appear,
Adventrous Paris dares Atrides' Spear;
And he whom Conquest shall adorn with Fame,
His be the Dow'r, and his the beauteous Dame.
Thus Friends and Foes may cease their warlike Toil,
And we possess fair Ilium's fertile Soil,
While they to Greece restore their shining Arms,
Greece fam'd for Steeds, and blest with Beauty's Charms.

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Struck with Surprize these fatal Words to hear
The trembling Prince confest a Parent's Fear,
Then bad the Chiefs his Royal Coursers bring,
Sudden the Chiefs obey'd the rev'rend King.
Slow to the Seat the hoary Sire ascends,
And grave Antenor on his Prince attends.
Thro' Scæa's Gates th'imperial Car proceeds,
Thence to the Field they drove the gen'rous Steeds;
Then both descending took their silent Stands
Right in the midst between the hostile Bands.
With that the Warrior of Laertes' Line
Rose with the King; the Heralds mix'd the Wine,
Near to the Kings the sacred Heralds drew,
And o'er their Hands the pure Ablution threw.

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Atrides then his glitt'ring Knife displaid,
That ever hung beside his warlike Blade,
Then o'er the Lambs the fatal Steel he spread,
And crop'd a Lock from ev'ry Victim's Head;
The Heralds seiz'd it with a rev'rend Care,
And gave each Leader his allotted Share;
Then stood Atrides, and with suppliant Cries
High rear'd his Hands, and thus invok'd the Skies.

O Jove supreme, to whose Almighty Will
Bend the high Heav'ns, and Ida's sacred Hill,
Thou glorious Sun with thy all-seeing Beams,
Thou Parent Earth, and all ye conscious Streams,
Ye gloomy Gods, who rule th'infernal Coast,
Rack guilty Souls, and scourge the perjur'd Ghost;
Hear and attest; if Paris' Arm prevails,
Greece on the Main shall hoist her flying Sails,

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Safe from a Foe let his victorious Pow'r
Keep the rich Beauty, and enjoy her Dow'r,
If Heav'n with Conquest crowns Atrides' Sword,
To him be Helen and her Dow'r restor'd,
Let Ilium pay the Forfeit of her Crime,
Own'd in the Annals of succeeding Time!
But if the Sons of Troy the Fine detain,
When Paris once lies prostrate on the Plain,
Here will I still the Sword of Vengeance wield,
And see whose Conquest shall decide the Field.

Deep at the Word he struck the deadly Wound,
And laid the gasping Victims on the Ground,
The Chiefs did next the golden Urns incline,
From ev'ry Urn they pour'd the mingled Wine;
Then join'd their Pray'rs the hallow'd Rites to close,
And thus their solemn Imprecation rose.

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Hear, Jove, and all ye Rulers of the Skies,
Who first shall dare to break these sacred Ties,
As on the Ground distills this purple Flood,
So may their Brains, and so their Children's Blood,
May all their Race like transient Shadows glide,
And all be curs'd with an adult'rous Bride!
Thus both the Hosts invok'd the Pow'rs above,
But mov'd in vain th'unwilling Ears of Jove.

Then Priam rose, and thus exprest his Fear,
Ye warlike Bands, my Heart's Intention hear;
Home will I go where Troy's imperial Pow'r
High to the Winds uprears its lofty Tow'r,
I love my Son, nor can my aged Sight
Brook the sad Prospect of this dang'rous Fight,
'Tis vain to guess which conquer'd Chief shall yield,
Jove only knows the Fortune of the Field.

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High on his Car the slaughter'd Lambs he threw,
And with Antenor from the Plain withdrew.
Then Hector and Ulysses measur'd round
The Lists of Fight, and mark'd the fatal Ground;
Next in the Helmet threw, the dubious Chance,
Whose Arm should first emit the brazen Lance.
Then pray'd the Hosts, and thus with lifted Hands
Rose the joint Wish of all the warrior Bands;
O Jove supreme, to whose Almighty Will
Bend the high Heav'ns, and Ida's sacred Hill,
Who caus'd this War, let his unbody'd Ghost
Tread the dark Mansions of the infernal Coast,
Let mutual Peace this solemn League maintain,
And bind our Friendship with a lasting Chain.

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Then warlike Hector, as he glanc'd a Look
Back on the Field, the brazen Helmet shook,
Forth leap'd his Brother's Lot; the Heroes round
Each in his Place sate num'rous o'er the Ground;
The fiery Steeds inclos'd the lifted Field,
Beside each Warrior gleam'd his various Shield.
With that the Lord of Helen's beauteous Charms
Round his fair Shoulders brac'd his dazling Arms,
First on his Legs, in martial Pomp dispos'd
Blaz'd the rich Greaves with Studs of Silver clos'd;
Fix'd on his Breast Lycaon's Corslet shone,
Down from his Shoulders wav'd a glitt'ring Zone,
There hung the Sword, of Brass the temper'd Blade,
With silver Nails the shining Hilt inlaid.

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Next the fair Warrior from the dusty Field
Rear'd the vast Orb of his capacious Shield;
A burnish'd Helm gleam'd o'er his Head, behind
The Horse-hair Crest wav'd dreadful to the Wind,
And while his Hand a shining Jav'lin chose,
Arm'd at all Points the brave Atrides rose.

Thus arm'd and frowning with a fierce Disdain
March'd the two Chiefs amidst the fatal Plain;
A deep Suspence, as each advanc'd along,
Sate in the Eyes of all the gazing Throng.
Now Foe to Foe their brazen Jav'lins shook,
Lowr'd with Revenge, and glar'd an angry Look,
First beauteous Paris at Atrides flung,
Full on his Shield the furious Jav'lin rung,
But quick rebounding from its brazen Field,
Sprung blunted off nor pierc'd th'impassive Shield.

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Then fierce Atrides stood prepar'd to throw,
But first from Jove implor'd a conqu'ring Blow,
O Jove, may this vindictive Arm succeed,
False to his Friend may Paris justly bleed;
Let gen'rous Friends an awful Fear engage,
And rise uninjur'd in a future Age!

Fierce at the Word elanc'd along the Field
Flew the sharp Spear against the Trojan's Shield,
Deep thro' his Orb the Spear impetuous came,
And fix'd within his Croslet's temper'd Frame;
Then glanc'd along, and pierc'd his Robe below,
Down he reclin'd, and shun'd the deadly Blow.
But Atreus' Son sprung furious to invade,
And swiftly drew the dreadful-gleaming Blade,
Then on his Crest impel'd a pondrous Stroke,
Crack'd the weak Steel, the Sword short shiv'ring broke.

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Deep sigh'd Atrides, and with angry Cries,
Glanc'd a fierce Look against the partial Skies,
Pernicious Jove, from thee descends my Woe,
Thou shield'st from Vengeance this injurious Foe;
See the Sword shivers, and the faithless Dart
Errs from my Arm, nor wounds the Traytor's Heart.
He spoke, and soon the Warrior's Helm comprest,
Where the thick Horse-hair floated o'er his Crest,
Then drag'd him on with his victorious Hands
Prone o'er the Ground towards the Grecian Bands;
Fierce as he drag'd him on, the Spartan King
Round his clos'd Beaver strain'd th'embroider'd String:
Soon had he triumph'd o'er th'inglorious Chief,
But Beauty's Queen beheld her Fav'rite's Grief;
Swift to his Aid the Goddess mov'd along,
Swift from his Head she rent the cumbrous Thong.

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An empty Helm deceiv'd Atrides' Hands,
The empty Helm amidst the Grecian Bands
Furious he threw, the wondring Greeks around
Uprear'd the glitt'ring Helmet from the Ground.
Then as the Chief advanc'd with Fury near,
Rush'd on his Foe, and aim'd the brazen Spear,
Fair Beauty's Queen a sudden Darkness spread,
And veil'd in ambient Clouds the Warrior's Head;
Then the kind Goddess with resistless Pow'r
Rapt the dear Champion to his nuptial Bow'r,
Round the gay Dome ambrosial Sweets of Love
Shed their rich Dews, and fill'd the proud Alcove.

Swift thro' the Dome the bright Celestial fled
To call fair Helen to the genial Bed,
High on the Tow'r the Spartan Beauty stood
Midst the fair Nymphs of Priam's princely Blood

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A known Disguise officious Venus took,
And chang'd her Glories to a Matron's Look,
Whose skilful Hand, ere she from Sparta came,
Wove the rich Textures of the Royal Dame;
She pull'd her Robe, whose Fragrance fill'd the Air,
And thus the Pow'r of Love addrest the Fair.

Go, beauteous Nymph, thy eager Speed employ,
Thy Paris calls thee to the Dome of Joy;
There the gay Chief enrob'd with Beauty's Pride
Glows on his Bed, and waits his am'rous Bride;
Nor as a Warrior does the Prince appear
Rough from the Dangers of Atrides Spear,
Soon will thy Eyes the blooming Chief approve,
Drest for the Ball or thence retir'd to Love.

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The Goddess spoke, and in the beauteous Dame
Wak'd his dear Form, and rais'd the am'rous Flame
Soon as she saw the Breast that moves Desire,
Her Neck, and Eyes that glanc'd Cœlestial Fire,
She knew the Queen of Beauty in Disguise,
And conscious thus exprest her dread Surprize.

False Pow'r of Love, to what imperial Dome
Still must I wander from my native home?
Must I to Phrygia or Mœonia tend,
If there thou deign'st to serve an am'rous Friend:
Since now thy Paris on the fatal Strand
Falls by the Valour of Atrides' Hand;
Since I must hence an odious Bride depart,
Com'st thou insidious to seduce my Heart?

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Go, Venus, go, thy heav'nly Pow'r deny,
No more ascend the Mansions of the Sky,
With him the Solace of his Grief reside,
Wait as a Slave, protect him as a Bride;
For I'll no more defame my Royal Charms,
Nor meet th'Embrace of his inglorious Arms,
All Troy would scoff, and each opprobrious Dame
Raise in my Soul the copious Pangs of Shame.

To whom the Goddess with an angry Voice,
Urge not my Wrath, lest I renounce my Choice,
Should I incens'd my Guardian Pow'r remove,
Should once my Hate glow furious as my Love,
Soon will Revenge inspir'd by my Commands,
Rage in the Breasts of all the hostile Bands;
Thou to their Wrath shalt yield thy odious Breath,
And all thy Beauties shall be lost in Death.

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At this the Nymph that sprung from Jove's Embrace
Mov'd silent on, and veil'd her conscious Face,
Then thro' the Crowd of Trojan Dames unseen
The Guardian Goddess led th'obsequious Queen.
Soon as they enter'd Priam's stately Rooms,
Her duteous Handmaids ply'd their curious Looms;
High to the Bow'r, where Paris lay reclin'd,
Uprose the fairest of the beauteous Kind;
Full in his View the Laughter-loving Dame
Plac'd the fair Offspring of Jove's heav'nly Flame;
She turn'd her Eyes aside with cold Disdain,
And thus reproach'd him in a scornful Strain.

Thou com'st inglorious from th'embattled Strand,
O hadst thou fall'n beneath Atrides' Hand,

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Oft hast thou brag'd thy vig'rous Arm would show
Whose warlike Spear could strike the surest Blow,
Go, mighty Chief, resume thy brazen Shield,
Dare the fierce Rival to the hostile Field;
Yet warn'd by me no more in Arms appear,
Nor fall the Victim of his conqu'ring Spear.

Ah! beauteous Nymph, reply'd the anxious Chief,
Cease with Reproach to edge my fatal Grief;
To Atreus' Son Minerva lent her Aid,
Nor has he conquer'd but the warrior Maid;
This Hand may yet the prostrate Foe destroy,
For Heav'n has Gods that aid the Cause of Troy.
But now, my Fair, let angry Discord cease,
And Love compose our jarring Hearts to Peace;
Not thus I lov'd, when I from Sparta's Plain
Rapt thy dear Beauties o'er the stormy Main,

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When first incircled with thy lovely Arms,
In Cranae's Isle I mingled with thy Charms;
Now o'er my Breast exalted Raptures move,
And my fierce Passion breathes a stronger Love.

Then to the Bed adorn'd with stately Pride,
Rose the glad Lover and his duteous Bride.
But fierce Atrides in the Field below
Rag'd like a Lion for his absent Foe,
Vain thro' the Ranks the angry Warrior flies,
Thro' all the Sons of Troy and Troy's Allies;
Nor those had sav'd the Coward's odious Breath,
For all abhorr'd him as the Shades of Death.
Then rose the King, and spoke his just Demands,
Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliar Bands,

169

Victorious Fate has crown'd my Brother's Sword,
To him be Helen and her Dow'r restor'd;
Let Ilium pay the Forfeit of her Crime,
Own'd in the Annals of succeeding Time.
Thus did the King assert his Country's Cause,
And Greece in Shouts return'd him loud Applause.

Menelaus.

Ulysses.

Agamemnon.

Paris.

Venus.

Agamemnon.