The Third Volume of the Works of Mr. William Congreve containing Poems upon Several Occasions |
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Helen's Lamentation.
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| II. |
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| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | The Third Volume of the Works of Mr. William Congreve |  |
Helen's Lamentation.
O Hector, thou wert rooted in my Heart,
No Brother there had half so large a Part:
Not less than twenty Years are now pass'd o're,
Since first I landed on the Trojan Shore;
Since I with Godlike Paris fled from home;
(Would I had dy'd before that Day had come!)
In all which time (so gentle was thy Mind)
I ne'er could charge thee with a Deed unkind;
Not one untender Word, or Look of Scorn,
Which I too often have from others born.
But you from their Reproach still set me free,
And kindly have reprov'd their Cruelty;
If by my Sisters, or the Queen revil'd,
(For the good King, like you, was ever mild)
Your Kindness still has all my Grief beguil'd.
Ever in Tears let me your Loss bemoan,
Who had no Friend alive, but you alone:
All will reproach me now, where-e'er I pass,
And fly with Horror from my hated Face.
This said; she wept, and the vast Throng was mov'd,
And with a gen'ral Sigh her Grief approv'd.
When Priam (who had heard the mourning Crowd)
Rose from his Seat, and thus he spake aloud.
No Brother there had half so large a Part:
Not less than twenty Years are now pass'd o're,
Since first I landed on the Trojan Shore;
Since I with Godlike Paris fled from home;
(Would I had dy'd before that Day had come!)
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I ne'er could charge thee with a Deed unkind;
Not one untender Word, or Look of Scorn,
Which I too often have from others born.
But you from their Reproach still set me free,
And kindly have reprov'd their Cruelty;
If by my Sisters, or the Queen revil'd,
(For the good King, like you, was ever mild)
Your Kindness still has all my Grief beguil'd.
Ever in Tears let me your Loss bemoan,
Who had no Friend alive, but you alone:
All will reproach me now, where-e'er I pass,
And fly with Horror from my hated Face.
This said; she wept, and the vast Throng was mov'd,
And with a gen'ral Sigh her Grief approv'd.
When Priam (who had heard the mourning Crowd)
Rose from his Seat, and thus he spake aloud.
Cease your Lamentings, Trojans, for a while,
And fell down Trees to build a Fun'ral Pile;
Fear not an Ambush by the Grecians laid,
For with Achilles twelve Days Truce I made.
And fell down Trees to build a Fun'ral Pile;
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For with Achilles twelve Days Truce I made.
He spake, and all obey'd as with one Mind,
Chariots were brought, and Mules and Oxen join'd;
Forth from the City all the People went,
And nine Days Space was in that Labour spent;
The Tenth, a most stupendous Pile they made,
And on the Top the Manly Hector laid,
Then gave it Fire; while all, with weeping Eyes,
Beheld the rolling Flames and Smoak arise.
All Night they wept, and all the Night it burn'd;
But when the Rosie Morn with Day return'd,
About the Pile the thronging People came,
And with black Wine quench'd the remaining Flame.
His Brothers then, and Friends search'd ev'ry where,
And gath'ring up his snowy Bones with Care,
Wept o'er 'em; when an Urn of Gold was brought,
Wrapt in soft Purple Palls, and richly wrought,
In which the Sacred Ashes were interr'd,
Then o'er his Grave a Monument they rear'd.
Mean time, strong Guards were plac'd, and careful Spies,
To watch the Grecians, and prevent Surprize.
The Work once ended, all the vast Resort
Of mourning People went to Priam's Court;
There they refresh'd their weary Limbs with Rest,
Ending the Fun'ral with a Solemn Feast.
Chariots were brought, and Mules and Oxen join'd;
Forth from the City all the People went,
And nine Days Space was in that Labour spent;
The Tenth, a most stupendous Pile they made,
And on the Top the Manly Hector laid,
Then gave it Fire; while all, with weeping Eyes,
Beheld the rolling Flames and Smoak arise.
All Night they wept, and all the Night it burn'd;
But when the Rosie Morn with Day return'd,
About the Pile the thronging People came,
And with black Wine quench'd the remaining Flame.
His Brothers then, and Friends search'd ev'ry where,
And gath'ring up his snowy Bones with Care,
896
Wrapt in soft Purple Palls, and richly wrought,
In which the Sacred Ashes were interr'd,
Then o'er his Grave a Monument they rear'd.
Mean time, strong Guards were plac'd, and careful Spies,
To watch the Grecians, and prevent Surprize.
The Work once ended, all the vast Resort
Of mourning People went to Priam's Court;
There they refresh'd their weary Limbs with Rest,
Ending the Fun'ral with a Solemn Feast.
| The Third Volume of the Works of Mr. William Congreve | |