University of Virginia Library


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THE EIGHTEENTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.


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The ARGUMENT.

The Grief of Achilles, and new Armour made him by Vulcan.

The News of the Death of Patroclus, is brought to Achilles by Antilochus. Thetis hearing his Lamentations comes with all her Sea-Nymphs to comfort him. The Speeches of the Mother and Son on this Occasion. Iris appears to Achilles by the Command of Juno, and orders him to shew himself at the Head of the Intrenchments. The Sight of him turns the Fortune of the Day, and the Body of Patroclus is carried off by the Greeks. The Trojans call a Council, where Hector and Polydamas disagree in their Opinions; but the Advice of the former prevails, to remain encamp'd in the Field: The Grief of Achilles over the Body of Patroclus.

Thetis goes to the Palace of Vulcan to obtain new Arms for her Son. The Description of the wonderful Works of Vulcan, and lastly, that noble one of the Shield of Achilles.

The latter part of the nine and twentieth Day, and the Night ensuing, take up this Book. The Scene is at Achilles's Tent on the Sea-shore, from whence it changes to the Palace of Vulcan.


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Verse 1. Thus like the Rage of Fire, &c.] This Phrase is usual in our Author, to signify a sharp Battel fought with Heat and Fury on both parts; such an Engagement like a Flame, preying upon all sides, and dying the sooner, the fiercer it burns. Eustathius.

Thus like the Rage of Fire the Combat burns,

And now it rises, now it sinks by turns.
Meanwhile, where Hellespont's broad Waters flow
Stood Nestor's Son, the Messenger of Woe:
There sate Achilles, shaded by his Sails,

Verse 6. On hoisted Yards.] The Epithet ορθοκραιραων in this Place has a more than ordinary Sgnification. It implies that the Sail-yards were hoisted up, and Achilles's Ships on the point to set sail. This shews that it was purely in Compliance to his Friend that he permitted him to succour the Greeks; he meant to leave 'em as soon as Patroclus return'd; he still remember'd what he told the Embassadors in the ninth Book; V. 360. To morrow you shall see my Fleet set sail. Accordingly this is the Day appointed, and he is fix'd to his Resolution: This Circumstance wonderfully strengthens his implacable Character.

On hoisted Yards extended to the Gales;

Verse 7. Pensive he sate.] Homer in this artful manner prepares Achilles for the fatal Message, and gives him these Forebodings of his Misfortunes, that they might be no less than he expected.

His Expressions are suitable to his Concern, and deliver'd confusedly. “I bad him (says he) after he had sav'd the Ships, and repuls'd the Trojans, to return back, and not engage himself too far.” Here he breaks off, when he should have added; “But he was so unfortunate as to forget my Advice.” As he is reasoning with himself, Antilochus comes in, which makes him leave the Sense imperfect. Eustathius.

Pensive he sate; for all that Fate design'd,

Rose in sad Prospect to his boding Mind.
Thus to his Soul he said. Ah! what constrains
The Greeks, late Victors, now to quit the Plains?
Is this the Day, which Heav'n so long ago
Ordain'd, to sink me with the Weight of Woe?

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(So Thetis warn'd) when by a Trojan Hand,
The bravest of the Myrmidonian Band

Verse 15.

Fulfill'd is that Decree?
Slain is the Warrior? and Patroclus he!

It may be objected, that Achilles seems to contradict what had been said in the foregoing Book, that Thetis conceal'd from her Son the Death of Patroclus in her Prediction. Whereas here he says, that she had foretold he should lose the bravest of the Thessalians. There is nothing in this but what is natural and common among Mankind: And it is still more agreeable to the hasty and inconsiderate Temper of Achilles, not to have made that Reflection till it was too late. Prophecies are only Marks of divine Prescience, not Warnings to prevent human Misfortunes; for if they were, they must hinder their own Accomplishment.

Should lose the Light? Fulfill'd is that Decree;

Fal'n is the Warrior, and Patroclus he!
In vain I charg'd him soon to quit the Plain,
And warn'd to shun Hectorean Force in vain!
Thus while he thinks, Antilochus appears,
And tells the melancholy Tale with Tears.

Verse 21. Sad Tydings, Son of Peleus !] This Speech of Antilochus ought to serve as a Model for the Brevity with which so dreadful a piece of News ought to be deliver'd; for in two Verses it comprehends the whole Affair, the Death of Patroclus, the Person that kill'd him, the Contest for his Body, and his Arms in the Possession of the Enemy. Besides, it shou'd be observ'd that Grief has so crowded his Words, that in these two Verses he leaves the Verb αμφιμαχονται, they fight, without its Nominative, the Greeks or Trojans. Homer observes this Brevity upon all the like Occasions. The Greek Tragic Poets have not always imitated this Discretion. In great Distresses there is nothing more ridiculous than a Messenger who begins a long Story with pathetic Descriptions; he speaks without being heard; for the Person to whom he addresses himself has no time to attend him: The first Word, which discovers to him his Misfortune, has made him deaf to all the rest. Eustathius.

Sad Tydings, Son of Peleus! thou must hear;

And wretched I, th'unwilling Messenger!
Dead is Patroclus! For his Corps they fight;
His naked Corps: His Arm's are Hector's Right.

Verse 25. A sudden Horrour, &c.] A modern French Writer has drawn a Parallel of the Conduct of Homer and Virgil, in relation to the Deaths of Patroclus and of Pallas. The latter is kill'd by Turnus, as the former by Hector; Turnus triumphs in the Spoils of the one, as Hector is clad in the Arms of the other; Æneas revenges the Death of Pallas by that of Turnus, as Achilles the Death of Patroclus by that of Hector. The Grief of Achilles in Homer on the score of Patroclus, is much greater than that of Æneas in Virgil, for the sake of Pallas. Achilles gives himself up to Despair with a Weakness which Plato could not pardon in him, and which can only be excus'd on account of the long and close Friendship between 'em: That of Æneas is more discreet, and seems more worthy of a Hero. It was not possible that Æneas could be so deeply interested for any Man, as Achilles was interested for Patroclus: For Virgil had no Colour to kill Ascanius, who was little more than a Child; besides, that his Hero's Interest in the War of Italy was great enough of itself, not to need to be animated by so touching a Concern as the fear of losing his Son. On the other hand, Achilles having but very little personal Concern in the War of Troy (as he had told Agamemnon in the beginning of the Poem) and knowing, besides, that he was to perish there, required some very pressing Motive to engage him to persist in it, after such Disgusts and Insults as he had received. It was this which made it necessary for these two great Poets to treat a Subject so much its their own Nature alike, in a manner so different. But as Virgil found it admirable in Homer, he was willing to approach it, as near as the Oeconomy of his Work would permit.

A sudden Horror shot thro' all the Chief,

And wrapt his Senses in the Cloud of Grief;

Verse 27. Cast on the Ground, &c.] This is a fine Picture of the Grief of Achilles: We see on the one hand, the Posture in which the Hero receives the News of his Friend's Death; he falls upon the Ground, he rends his Hair, he snatches the Ashes and casts them on his Head, according to the manner of those Times; (but what much enlivens it in this place, is his sprinkling Embers instead of Ashes in the Violence of his Passion.) On the other side, the Captives are running from their Tents, ranging themselves about him, and answering to his Groans: Beside him stands Antilochus, fetching deep Sighs, and hanging on the Arms of the Hero, for fear his Despair and Rage should cause some desperate Attempt upon his own Life: There is no Painter but will be touch'd with this Image.

Cast on the Ground, with furious Hands he spread

The scorching Ashes o'er his graceful Head;
His purple Garments, and his golden Hairs,
Those he deforms with Dust, and these he tears:
On the hard Soil his groaning Breast he threw,
And roll'd and grovel'd, as to Earth he grew.

Verse 33. The Virgin Captives.] The captive Maids lamented either in Pity for their Lord, or in Gratitude to the Memory of Patroclus, who was remarkable for his Goodness and Affability; or under these Pretences mourn'd for their own Misfortunes and Slavery. Eustathius.

The Virgin Captives, with disorder'd Charms,

(Won by his own, or by Patroclus' Arms)

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Rush'd from the Tents with Cries; and gath'ring round
Beat their white Breasts, and fainted on the Ground:
While Nestor's Son sustains a manlier Part,
And mourns the Warrior with a Warrior's Heart;
Hangs on his Arms, amidst his frantic Woe,
And oft prevents the meditated Blow.
Far in the deep Abysses of the Main,
With hoary Nereus, and the watry Train,
The Mother Goddess from her crystal Throne
Heard his loud Cries, and answer'd Groan for Groan.
The circling Nereids with their Mistress weep,
And all the Sea-green Sisters of the Deep.
Thalia, Glauce, (ev'ry wat'ry Name)
Nesæa mild, and Silver Spio came.
Cymothoe and Cymodoce were nigh,
And the blue Languish of soft Alia's Eye.
Their Locks Actæa and Limnoria rear,
Then Proto, Doris, Panope appear;
Thoa, Pherusa, Doto, Melita;
Agave gentle, and Amphithoe gay:
Next Callianira, Callianassa show
Their Sister Looks; Dexamene the slow,

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And swift Dynamene, now cut the Tydes:
Iæra now the verdant Wave divides;
Nemertes with Apseudes lifts the Head:
Bright Galatea quits her pearly Bed:
These Orythia, Clymene, attend,
Mæra, Amphinome, the Train extend,
And black Janira, and Janassa fair,
And Amatheia with her amber Hair.
All these, and all that deep in Ocean held
Their sacred Seats, the glimm'ring Grotto fill'd;
Each beat her Iv'ry Breast with silent Woe,
Till Thetis' Sorrows thus began to flow.
Hear me, and judge, ye Sisters of the Main!
How just a Cause has Thetis to complain?
How wretched, were I mortal, were my Fate!
How more than wretched in th'immortal State!
Sprung from my Bed a god-like Hero came,
The bravest far that ever bore the Name;

Verse 75. Like some fair Plant, beneath my careful Hand.] This Passage, where the Mother compares her Son to a tender Plant, rais'd and preserv'd with Care; has a most remarkable Resemblance to that in the Psalms, Thy Children like Branches of Olive Trees round thy Table. Psal. 127.

Like some fair Olive, by my careful Hand

He grew, he flourish'd, and adorn'd the Land:
To Troy I sent him; but the Fates ordain
He never, never must return again.

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So short a space the Light of Heav'n to view,
So short alas! and fill'd with Anguish too?
Hear how his Sorrows echo thro' the Shore!
I cannot ease them, but I must deplore;
I go at least to bear a tender part,
And mourn my lov'd one with a Mother's Heart.
She said, and left the Caverns of the Main.
All bath'd in Tears, the melancholy Train
Attend her Way. Wide-opening part the Tides,
While the long Pomp the silver Wave divides.
Approaching now, they touch'd the Trojan Land;
Then, two by two, ascended up the Strand.
Th'immortal Mother, standing close beside
Her mournful Offspring, to his Sighs reply'd;
Along the Coast their mingled Clamours ran,
And thus the silver-footed Dame began.
Why mourns my Son? thy late-preferr'd Request
The God has granted, and the Greeks distrest:
Why mourns my Son? thy Anguish let me share,
Reveal the Cause, and trust a Parent's Care.
He, deeply groaning—To this cureless Grief

Verse 100, 125. The two Speeches of Achilles to Thetis .] It is not possible to imagine more lively and beautiful Strokes of Nature and Passion, than those which our Author ascribes to Achilles throughout these admirable Speeches. They contain all, that the truest Friend, the most tender Son, and the most generous Hero, could think or express in this delicate and affecting Circumstance. He shews his Excess of Love to his Mother, by wishing he had never been born or known to the World, rather than she should have endur'd so many Sufferings on his account: He shews no less Love for his Friend, in resolving to revenge his Death upon Hector, tho' his own would immediately follow. We see him here ready to meet his Fate for the sake of his Friend, and in the Odysseis we find him wishing to live again only to maintain his Father's Honour against his Enemies: Thus he values neither Life nor Death, but as they conduce to the Good of his Friend and Parents, or the Encrease of his Glory.

After having calmly consider'd the present State of his Life, he deliberately embraces his approaching Fate; and comforts himself under it, by a Reflection on those great Men, whom neither their illustrious Actions, nor their Affinity to Heaven, could save from the general Doom. A Thought very natural to him, whose Business it was in Peace to sing their Praises, and in War to imitate their Actions. Achilles, like a Man passionate of Glory, takes none but the finest Models; he thinks of Hercules, who was the Son of Jupiter, and who had fill'd the Universe with the Noise of his immortal Actions: These are the Sentiments of a real Hero. Eustathius.

Not ev'n the Thund'rers Favour brings Relief.


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Patroclus—Ah!—Say Goddess can I boast
A Pleasure now? Revenge itself is lost:
Patroclus, lov'd of all my martial Train,
Beyond Mankind, beyond my self, is slain!
Lost are those Arms the Gods themselves bestow'd
On Peleus; Hector bears the glorious Load.
Curs'd be that Day, when all the Pow'rs above
Thy Charms submitted to a mortal Love:
Oh had'st thou still, a Sister of the Main,
Pursu'd the Pleasures of the wat'ry Reign;
And happier Peleus, less ambitious, led
A mortal Beauty to his equal Bed!
E'er the sad Fruit of thy unhappy Womb
Had caus'd such Sorrows past, and Woes to come.
For soon alas! that wretched Offspring slain,
New Woes, new Sorrows shall create again:
'Tis not in Fate th'Alternate now to give;
Patroclus dead, Achilles hates to live.
Let me revenge it on proud Hector's Heart,
Let his last Spirit smoak upon my Dart;
On these Conditions will I breathe: Till then,
I blush to walk among the Race of Men.

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A Flood of Tears, at this, the Goddess shed:
Ah then, I see thee dying, see thee dead!
When Hector falls, thou dy'st.—Let Hector die,
And let me fall! (Achilles made reply)
Far lyes Patroclus from his native plain!
He fell, and falling wish'd my Aid in vain.
Ah then, since from this miserable Day
I cast all hope of my Return away,
Since unreveng'd, a hundred Ghosts demand
The Fate of Hector from Achilles' hand;
Since here, for brutal Courage far renown'd,
I live an idle Burden to the Ground,
(Others in Council fam'd for nobler Skill,
More useful to preserve, than I to kill)

Verse 137. Let me—But oh ye gracious Powers &c.] Achilles's Words are these; “Now since I am never to return home, and since I lie here an useless Person, losing my best Friend, and exposing the Greeks to so many Dangers by my own Folly; I who am superior to them all in Battel—Here he breaks off, and says—May Contention perish everlastingly, &c. Achilles leaves the Sentence thus suspended, either because in his Heat he had forgot what he was speaking of, or because he did not know how to end it; for he should have said,—“Since I have done all this, I'll perish to revenge him:” Nothing can be finer than this sudden Execration against Discord and Revenge, which breaks from the Hero in the deep Sense of the Miseries those Passions had occasion'd him.

Achilles could not be ignorant that he was superior to others in Battel; and it was therefore no Fault in him to say so. But he is so ingenuous as to give himself no farther Commendation than what he undoubtedly merited; confessing at the same time, that many exceeded him in Speaking: Unless one may take this as said in contempt of Oratory, not unlike that of Virgil,

Orabunt caussas meliùs ------ &c.
Let me—But oh! ye gracious Pow'rs above!

Wrath and Revenge from Men and Gods remove:
Far, far too dear to ev'ry mortal Breast,
Sweet to the Soul, as Hony to the Taste;
Gath'ring like Vapours of a noxious kind
From fiery Blood, and dark'ning all the Mind.
Me Agamemnon urg'd to deadly Hate;
'Tis past—I quell it; I resign to Fate.

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Yes—I will meet the Murd'rer of my Friend,
Or (if the Gods ordain it) meet my End.
The Stroke of Fate the bravest cannot shun:
The great Alcides, Jove's unequal'd Son,
To Juno's Hate at length resign'd his Breath,
And sunk the Victim of all-conqu'ring Death.
So shall Achilles fall! stretch'd pale and dead,
No more the Grecian Hope, or Trojan Dread!

Verse 153. Let me this instant.] I shall have time enough for inglorious Rest when I am in the Grave, but now I must act like a living Hero: I shall indeed lie down in Death, but at the same time rise higher in Glory. Eustathius.

Let me, this instant, rush into the Fields,

And reap what Glory Life's short Harvest yields.
Shall I not force some widow'd Dame to tear
With frantic Hands, her long dishevell'd Hair?
Shall I not force her Breast to heave with Sighs,
And the soft Tears to trickle from her Eyes?
Yes, I shall give the Fair those mournful Charms—
In vain you hold me—Hence! my Arms, my Arms
Soon shall the sanguine Torrent spread so wide,

Verse 162. That all shall know, Achilles .] There is a great Stress on δηρον and εγω. They shall soon find that their Victories have been owing to the long Absence of a Hero, and that Hero Achilles. Upon which the Ancients have observ'd, that since Achilles's Anger there past in reality but a few Days: To which it may be reply'd, that so short a Time as this might well seem long to Achilles, who thought all unactive Hours tedious and insupportable; and if the Poet himself had said that Achilles was long absent, he had not said it because a great many Days had past, but because so great a Variety of Incidents had happen'd in that Time. Eustathius.

That all shall know, Achilles swells the Tide.

My Son (Cœrulean Thetis made reply,
To Fate submitting with a secret Sigh)
The Host to succour, and thy Friends to save,
Is worthy thee; the Duty of the Brave.

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But can'st thou, naked, issue to the Plains?
Thy radiant Arms the Trojan Foe detains.
Insulting Hector bears the Spoils on high,
But vainly glories, for his Fate is nigh.
Yet, yet awhile, thy gen'rous Ardor stay;
Assur'd, I meet thee at the dawn of Day,
Charg'd with refulgent Arms (a glorious Load)
Vulcanian Arms, the Labour of a God.
Then turning to the Daughters of the Main,
The Goddess thus dismiss'd her azure Train.
Ye Sister Nereids! to your Deeps descend,
Haste, and our Fathers sacred Seat attend,
I go to find the Architect divine,
Where vast Olympus starry Summits shine:
So tell our hoary Sire—This Charge she gave:
The Sea-green Sisters plunge beneath the Wave:
Thetis once more ascends the blest Abodes,
And treads the brazen Threshold of the Gods.
And now the Greeks, from furious Hector's Force,
Urge to broad Hellespont their headlong Course:
Nor yet their Chiefs Patroclus' Body bore
Safe thro' the Tempest, to the Tented Shore.

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The Horse, the Foot, with equal Fury join'd,
Pour'd on the Rear, and thunder'd close behind;
And like a Flame thro' Fields of ripen'd Corn,
The Rage of Hector o'er the Ranks was born:
Thrice the slain Hero by the Foot he drew;
Thrice to the Skies the Trojan Clamours flew.
As oft' th'Ajaces his Assault sustain;
But check'd, he turns; repuls'd, attacks again.
With fiercer Shouts his ling'ring Troops he fires,
Nor yields a Step, nor from his Post retires:
So watchful Sheperds strive to force, in vain,
The hungry Lion from a Carcase slain.
Ev'n yet, Patroclus had he born away,
And all the Glories of th'extended Day;
Had not high Juno, from the Realms of Air,
Secret, dispatch'd her trusty Messenger.
The various Goddess of the painted Bow,
Shot in a Whirlwind to the Shore below;
To great Achilles at his Ships she came,
And thus began the many-colour'd Dame.
Rise, Son of Peleus! rise divinely brave!
Assist the Combate, and Patroclus save:

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For him the Slaughter to the Fleet they spread,
And fall by mutual Wounds around the Dead.
To drag him back to Troy the Foe contends;
Nor with his Death the Rage of Hector ends:
A Prey to Dogs he dooms the Corse to lye,
And marks the Place to fix his Head on high.

Verse 217.—This Promise of Thetis to present her Son with a new Suit of Armour, was the most artful Method of hindering him from putting immediately in practice his Resolutions of fighting, which according to his violent Manners, he must have done: Therefore the Interposition of Thetis here was absolutely necessary; it was Dignus vindice nodus.

Rise, and prevent (if yet thou think of Fame)

Thy Friend's Disgrace, thy own eternal Shame!

Verse 219. Who sends thee Goddess, &c.] Achilles is amazed, that a Moment after the Goddess his Mother had forbid him fighting, he shou'd receive a contrary Order from the Gods: Therefore he asks what God sent her? Dacier.

Who sends thee, Goddess! from th'Etherial Skies?

Achilles thus. And Iris thus replies.
I come, Pelides! from the Queen of Jove,
Th'immortal Empress of the Realms above;
Unknown to him who sits remote on high,
Unknown to all the Synod of the Sky.
Thou com'st in vain, he cries (with Fury warm'd)

Verse 226. Arms I have none.] It is here objected against Homer, that since Patroclus took Achilles' Armour, Achilles could not want Arms while he had those of Patroclus; but (besides that Patroclus might have given his Armour to his Squire Automedon, the better to deceive the Trojans by making them take Automedon for Patroclus, as they took Patroclus for Achilles) this Objection may be very solidly answer'd by saying that Homer has prevented it, since he made Achilles's Armour fit Patroclus's Body not without a Miracle, which the Gods wrought in his Favour. Furthermore, it does not follow that because the Armour of a large Man fits one that is smaller, the Armour of a little Man shou'd fit one that is larger. Eustathius.

Arms I have none, and can I fight unarm'd?

Unwilling as I am, of force I stay,
Till Thetis bring me at the dawn of Day
Vulcanian Arms: What other should I wield?

Verse 230. Except the mighty Telamonian Shield.] Achilles seems not to have been of so large a Stature as Ajax: Yet his Shield 'tis likely might be fit enough for him, because his great Strength was sufficient to wield it. This Passage, I think, might have been made use of by the Defenders of the Shield of Achilles against the Criticks, to shew that Homer intended the Buckler of his Hero for a very large one: And one would think he put it into this place, just a little before the Description of that Shield, on purpose to obviate that Objection.

Except the mighty Telamonian Shield?

That, in my Friends Defence, has Ajax spread,
While his strong Lance around him heaps the Dead:

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The gallant Chief defends Menœtius' Son,
And does, what his Achilles should have done.
Thy want of Arms (said Iris) well we know,

Verse 236. But as thou art, unarm'd] A Hero so violent and so outragious as Achilles, and who had just lost the Man he lov'd best in the World, is not likely to refuse shewing himself to the Enemy, for the single Reason of having no Armour. Grief and Despair in a great Soul are not so prudent and reserv'd; but then on the other side, he is not to throw himself in the midst of so many Enemies arm'd and flush'd with Victory. Homer gets out of this nice Circumstance with great Dexterity, and gives to Achilles's Character every thing he ought to give it, without offending either against Reason or Probability. He judiciously feigns, that Juno sent this Order to Achilles, for Juno is the Goddess of Royalty, who has the Care of Princes and Kings; and who inspires them with the Sense of what they owe to their Dignity and Character. Dacier.

But tho' unarm'd, yet clad in Terrors, go!

Verse 237. Let but Achilles o'er yon' Trench appear.] There cannot be a greater Instance, how constantly Homer carry'd his whole Design in his Head, as well as with what admirable Art he raises one great Idea upon another, to the highest Sublime, than this Passage of Achilles's Appearance to the Army, and the Preparations by which we are led to it. In the thirteenth Book, when the Trojans have the Victory, they check their Pursuit of it, in the mere Thought that Achilles sees them: In the sixteenth, they are put into the utmost Consternation at the sight of his Armour and Chariot: In the seventeenth, Menelaus and Ajax are in Despair, on the Consideration that Achilles cannot succour them for want of Armour: In the present Book, beyond all Expectation he does but shew himself unarm'd, and the very Sight of him gives the Victory to Greece: How extremely noble is this Gradation!

Let but Achilles o'er yon' Trench appear,

Proud Troy shall tremble, and consent to fear;
Greece from one Glance of that tremendous Eye
Shall take new Courage, and disdain to fly.
She spoke, and past in Air. The Hero rose;
Her Ægis, Pallas o'er his Shoulders throws;
Around his Brows a golden Cloud she spread;
A Stream of Glory flam'd above his Head.

Verse 245. The Smokes high-curling.] For Fires in the Day appear nothing but Smoak, and in the Night Flames are visible because of the Darkness. And thus it is said in Exodus, That God led his People in the Day with a Pillar of Smoak, and in the Night with a Pillar of Fire. Per Diem in Columna nubis, & per Noctem in Columna ignis. Dacier.

As when from some beleagur'd Town arise

The Smokes high-curling to the shaded Skies;

Verse 247. Seen from some Island.] Homer makes choice of a Town placed in an Island, because such a Place being besieg'd has no other Means of making its Distress known than by Signals of Fire; whereas a Town upon the Continent has other Means to make known to its Neighbours the Necessity it is in. Dacier.

(Seen from some Island o'er the Main afar,

When Men distrest hang out the Sign of War)
Soon as the Sun in Ocean hides his Rays,
Thick on the Hills the flaming Beacons blaze;
With long-projected Beams the Seas are bright,
And Heav'ns high Arch reflects the ruddy Light:
So from Achilles' Head the Splendours rise,
Reflecting Blaze on Blaze, against the Skies.

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Forth march'd the Chief, and distant from the Croud,
High on the Rampart rais'd his Voice aloud;
With her own Shout Minerva swells the Sound;
Troy starts astonish'd, and the Shores rebound.

Verse 259. As the loud Trumpets, &c.] I have already observ'd, that when the Poet speaks as from himself, he may be allow'd to take his Comparisons from things which were not known before his Time. Here he borrows a Comparison from the Trumpet, as he has elsewhere done from Saddle-Horses, tho' neither one nor the other were us'd in Greece at the time of the Trojan War. Virgil was less exact in this respect, for he describes the Trumpet as used in the sacking of Troy,

Exoritur clamorque virûm clangorque tubarum.

And celebrates Misenus as the Trumpeter of Æneas. But as Virgil wrote at a time more remote from those heroic Ages, perhaps this Liberty may be excused. But a Poet had better confine himself to Customs and Manners, like a Painter; and it is equally a Fault in either of them to ascribe to Times and Nations any thing with which they were unacquainted.

One may add an Oservation to this Note of M. Dacier, that the Trumpet's not being in use at that time, makes very much for Homer's Purpose in this Place. The Terror rais'd by the Voice of his Hero, is much the more strongly imag'd by a Sound that was unusual, and capable of striking more from its very Novelty.

As the loud Trumpet's brazen Mouth from far

With shrilling Clangor sounds th'Alarm of War,
Struck from the Walls, the Echoes float on high,
And the round Bulwarks, and thick Tow'rs reply,
So high his brazen Voice the Hero rear'd,
Hosts drop their Arms, and trembled as they heard;
And back the Chariots roll, and Coursers bound,
And Steeds and Men lye mingled on the Ground.
Aghast they see the living Light'nings play,
And turn their Eye-balls from the flashing Ray.
Thrice from the Trench his dreadful Voice he rais'd;
And thrice they fled, confounded and amaz'd.
Twelve in the Tumult wedg'd, untimely rush'd
On their own Spears, by their own Chariots crush'd:
While shielded from the Darts, the Greeks obtain
The long-contended Carcase of the Slain.
A lofty Bier the breathless Warrior bears:
Around, his sad Companions melt in Tears

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But chief Achilles, bending down his Head,
Pours unavailing Sorrows o'er the Dead.
Whom late, triumphant with his Steeds and Car,
He sent refulgent to the Field of War,
(Unhappy Change!) now senseless, pale, he found,
Stretch'd forth, and gash'd with many a gaping Wound.
Meantime, unweary'd with his heavenly Way,
In Ocean's Waves th'unwilling Light of Day
Quench his red Orb, at Juno's high Command,
And from their Labours eas'd th'Achaian Band.
The frighted Trojans (panting from the War,
Their Steeds unharness'd from the weary Car)
A sudden Council call'd: Each Chief appear'd
In haste, and standing; for to sit they fear'd.
'Twas now no Season for prolong'd Debate;
They saw Achilles, and in him their Fate.
Silent they stood: Polydamas at last,
Skill'd to discern the Future by the past,
The Son of Panthus, thus exprest his Fears;
(The Friend of Hector, and of equal Years:
The self same Night to both a Being gave,
One wise in Council, one in Action brave.)

81

In free Debate, my Friends, your Sentence speak:
For me, I move, before the Morning break
To raise our Camp: Too dang'rous here our Post,
Far from Troy Walls, and on a naked Coast.
I deem'd not Greece so dreadful, while engag'd
In mutual Feuds, her King and Hero rag'd;
Then, while we hop'd our Armies might prevail,
We boldly camp'd beside a thousand Sail.
I dread Pelides now: his Rage of Mind
Not long continues to the Shores confin'd,
Nor to the Fields, where long in equal Fray
Contending Nations won and lost the Day;
For Troy, for Troy, shall henceforth be the Strife,
And the hard Contest not for Fame, but Life.
Haste then to Ilion, while the fav'ring Night
Detains those Terrors, keeps that Arm from Fight;

Verse 315. If but the Morrow's Sun, &c.] Polydamas says in the Original, “If Achilles comes to morrow in his Armour. There seems to lye an Objection against this Passage, for Polydamas knew that Achilles's Armour was won by Hector, he must also know that no other Man's Armour would fit him; how then could he know that new Arms were made for him that very Night? Those who are resolv'd to defend Homer, may answer, it was by his Skill in Prophecy; but to me, this seems to be a Slip of our Author's Memory, and one of those little Nods which Horace speaks of.

If but the Morrow's Sun behold us here,

That Arm, those Terrors, we shall feel, not fear;
And Hearts that now disdain, shall leap with Joy,
If Heav'n permits them then to enter Troy.
Let not my fatal Prophecy be true,
Nor what I tremble but to think, ensue.

82

Whatever be our Fate, yet let us try
What Force of Thought and Reason can supply;
Let us on Counsel for our Guard depend;
The Town, her Gates and Bulwarks shall defend:
When Morning dawns, our well-appointed Pow'rs
Array'd in Arms, shall line the lofty Tow'rs.
Let the fierce Hero then, when Fury calls,
Vent his mad Vengeance on our rocky Walls,
Or fetch a thousand Circles round the Plain,
Till his spent Coursers seek the Fleet again:
So may his Rage be tir'd, and labour'd down;
And Dogs shall tear him, e'er he sack the Town.

Verse 333. The Speech of Hector .] Hector in this severe Answer to Polydamas, takes up several of his Words and turns them another way.

Polydamas had said Πρωι δ' υπ' ηοιοι συν τευχεσι θωρηχθεντες στησομεθ' αν πυρτους, “To Morrow by break of Day let us put on our Arms, and defend the Castles and City-Walls,” to which Hector replies, Πρωι δ' υτ' ηοιοι συν τευχεσι θωρηχθεντες Νηυσιν επιγλαφυρησιν εγειρομεν οξυν Αρηα, “To Morrow by break of Day let us put on our Arms, not to defend our selves at home, but to fight the Greeks before their own Ships.

Polydamas, speaking of Achilles, had said τω δ' αλγιον αικ' εθελησιν, &c. “if he comes after we are within the Walls of our City, 'twill be the worse for him, for he may drive round the City long enough before he can hurt us.” To which, Hector answers; “If Achilles should come Αλγιον, αικ' εθελησι, τω εσσεται: ου μιν εγωγε Φευξομαι εκ πολεμοιο, &c. 'Twill be the worse for him, as you say, because I'll fight him: ου μιν εωε φευξομαι, says Hector, in reply to Polydamas's Saying, ος κε φυη. But Hector is not so far gone in Passion or Pride, as to forget himself; and accordingly in the next Lines he modestly puts it in doubt, which of them shall conquer. Eustathius.

Return? (said Hector, fir'd with stern Disdain)

What, coop whole Armies in our Walls again?
Was't not enough, ye valiant Warriors say,
Nine Years imprison'd in those Tow'rs ye lay?
Wide o'er the World was Ilion fam'd of old
For Brass exhaustless, and for Mines of Gold:
But while inglorious in her Walls we stay'd,

Verse 340. Sunk were her Treasures, and her Stores decay'd.] As well by reason of the Convoys, which were necessarily to be sent for with ready Money; as by reason of the great Allowances which were to be given to the auxiliary Troops, who came from Phrygia and Mæonia. Hector's Meaning is, that since all the Riches of Troy are exhausted, it is no longer necessary to spare themselves, or shut themselves up within their Walls. Dacier.

Sunk were her Treasures, and her Stores decay'd;

The Phrygians now her scatter'd spoils enjoy,
And proud Mæonia wasts the Fruits of Troy.

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Great Jove at length my Arms to Conquest calls,
And shuts the Grecians in their wooden Walls:
Dar'st thou dispirit whom the Gods incite?
Flies any Trojan? I shall stop his Flight.
To better Counsel then Attention lend,
Take due Refreshment, and the Watch attend.

Verse 349. If there be one, &c,] This noble and generous Proposal is worthy of Hector, and at the same time very artful to ingratiate himself with the Soldiers. Eustathius farther observes that it is said with an Eye to Polydamas, as accusing him of being rich, and of not opening the Advice he had given, for any other End than to preserve his great Wealth; for Riches commonly make Men Cowards, and the Desire of saving them has often occasion'd Men to give Advice very contrary to the publick Welfare.

If there be one whose Riches cost him Care,

Forth let him bring them, for the Troops to share;
'Tis better gen'rously bestow'd on those,
Than left the Plunder of our Country's Foes.
Soon as the Morn the rosie Orient warms
Fierce on yon' Navy will we pour our Arms.
If great Achilles rise in all his Might,
His be the Danger: I shall stand the Fight.
Honor, ye Gods! or let me gain, or give;
And live he glorious, whosoe'er shall live!
Mars is our common Lord, alike to all;
And oft' the Victor triumphs, but to fall.
The shouting Host in loud Applauses join'd;
So Pallas robb'd the Many of their Mind,
To their own Sense condemn'd! and left to chuse
The worse Advice, the better to refuse.

84

While the long Night extends her sable Reign,
Around Patroclus mourn'd the Grecian Train.
Stern in superior Grief Pelides stood;
Those slaught'ring Arms, so us'd to bathe in Blood,
Now clasp his clay-cold Limbs: Then gushing start
The Tears, and Sighs burst from his swelling Heart.
The Lion thus, with dreadful Anguish stung,
Roars thro' the Desart, and demands his Young;
When the grim Savage to his rifled Den
Too late returning, snuffs the Track of Men,
And o'er the Vales, and o'er the Forrest bounds;
His clam'rous Grief the bellowing Wood resounds.
So grieves Achilles; and impetuous, vents
To all his Myrmidons, his loud Laments.

Verse 379. In what vain Promise.] The Lamentation of Achilles over the Body of Patroclus is exquisitely touch'd. It is Sorrow in the extreme, but the Sorrow of Achilles. It is nobly usher'd in by that Simile of the Grief of the Lion: An Idea which is fully answer'd in the savage and bloody Conclusion of this Speech. One would think by the Beginning of it, that Achilles did not know his Fate, till after his Departure from Opuntium; and yet how does that agree with what is said of his Choice of the short and active Life, rather than the long and inglorious one? Or did not he flatter himself sometimes, that his Fate might be changed? This may be conjectur'd from several other Passages, and is indeed the most natural Solution.

In what vain Promise, Gods! did I engage?

When to console Menætius' feeble Age,
I vow'd his much-lov'd Offspring to restore,
Charg'd with rich Spoils, to fair Opuntia's Shore!
But mighty Jove cuts short, with just Disdain,
The long, long Views of poor, designing Man!
One Fate the Warrior and the Friend shall strike,
And Troy's black Sands must drink our Blood alike:

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Me too, a wretched Mother shall deplore,
An aged Father never see me more!
Yet, my Patroclus! yet a space I stay,
Then swift pursue thee on the darksome way.
E'er thy dear Relicks in the Grave are laid,
Shall Hector's Head be offer'd to thy Shade;
That, with his Arms, shall hang before thy Shrine,
And twelve, the noblest of the Trojan Line,
Slain by this Hand, sad Sacrifice! expire;
Their Lives effus'd around thy flaming Pyre.
Thus let me lie till then! thus, closely prest,
Bathe thy cold Face, and sob upon thy Breast!
While Trojan Captives here thy Mourners stay,
Weep all the Night, and murmur all the Day:
Spoils of my Arms, and thine; when, wasting wide,
Our Swords kept time, and conquer'd side by side.
He spoke, and bid the sad Attendants round

Verse 404. Cleanse the pale Corse, &c.] This Custom of washing the Dead, is continu'd amongst the Greeks to this Day; and 'tis a pious Duty perform'd by the dearest Friend or Relation, to see it wash'd and anointed with a Perfume, after which they cover it with Linen exactly in the manner here related.

Cleanse the pale Corse, and wash each honour'd Wound.

A massy Caldron of stupendous Frame
They brought, and plac'd it o'er the rising Flame:
Then heap the lighted Wood; the Flame divides
Beneath the Vase, and climbs around the Sides:

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In its wide Womb they pour the rushing Stream;
The boiling Water bubbles to the Brim:
The Body then they bathe with pious Toil,
Embalm the Wounds, anoint the Limbs with Oyl;
High on a Bed of State extended laid,
And decent cover'd with a linen Shade;
Last o'er the Dead the milkwhite Mantle threw;
That done, their Sorrows and their Sighs renew.

Verse 417. Jupiter and Juno .] Virgil has coppy'd the Speech of Juno to Jupiter. Ast ego quæ divûm incedo Regina, &c. But it is exceeding remarkable, that Homer should upon every Occasion make Marriage and Discord inseperable: 'Tis an unalterable Rule with him, to introduce the Husband and Wife in a Quarrel.

Meanwhile to Juno, in the Realms above,

(His Wife and Sister) spoke almighty Jove.
At last thy Will prevails: Great Peleus' Son
Rises in Arms: Such Grace thy Greeks have won.
Say (for I know not) is their Race divine,
And thou the Mother of that martial Line?
What Words are these (th'Imperial Dame replies,
While Anger flash'd from her majestick Eyes)
Succour like this a mortal Arm might lend,
And such Success mere human Wit attend:
And shall not I, the second Pow'r above,
Heav'ns Queen, and Consort of the thund'ring Jove,
Say, shall not I one Nation's Fate command,
Not wreak my Vengeance on one guilty Land?

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So they. Meanwhile the silver-footed Dame
Reach'd the Vulcanian Dome, Eternal Frame!
High eminent amid the Works divine,
Where Heav'ns far-beaming, brazen Mansions shine.
There the lame Architect the Goddess found,
Obscure in Smoak, his Forges flaming round,
While bath'd in Sweat from Fire to Fire he flew,
And puffing loud, the roaring Bellows blew.
That Day, no common Task his Labour claim'd:

Verse 440. Full twenty Tripods.] Tripods were Vessels supported on three Feet, with Handles on the Sides; they were of several Kinds, and for several Uses; some were consecrated to Sacrifices, some used as Tables, some as Seats, others hung up as Ornaments on Walls of Houses or Temples; these of Vulcan have an Addition of Wheels, which was not usual, which intimates them to be made with Clockwork. Mons. Dacier has commented very well on this Passage. If Vulcan (says he) had made ordinary Tripods, they had not answer'd the Greatness, Power, and Skill of a God. It was therefore necessary that his Work should be above that of Men: To effect this, the Tripods were animated, and in this Homer doth not deviate from the Probability; for every one is fully persuaded, that a God can do things more difficult than these, and that all Matter will obey him. What has not been said of the Statues of Dædalus? Plato writes, that they walked alone, and if they had not taken care to tie them, they would have got loose, and run from their Master. If a Writer in Prose can speak hyperbollically of a Man, may not Homer do it much more of a God? Nay, this Circumstance with which Homer has embellish'd his Poem, would have had nothing too surprizing tho' these Tripods had been made by a Man; for what may not be done in Clock-work by an exact Management of Springs? This Criticism is then ill grounded, and Homer does not deserve the Ridicule they would cast on him.

The same Author applies to this Passage of Homer that Rule of Aristotle, Poetic. Chap. 26. which deserves to be alledged at large on this Occasion.

“When a Poet is accus'd of saying any thing that is impossible; we must examine that Impossibility, either with respect to Poetry, with respect to that which is best, or with respect to common Fame. First, with regard to Poetry, The Probable Impossible ought to be preferr'd to the Possible, which bath no Verisimilitude, and which would not be believ'd; and 'tis thus that Zeuxis painted his Pieces. Secondly, with respect to that which is best, We see that a thing is most excellent and more wonderful this way, and that the Originals ought always to surpass. Lastly, in respect to Fame, It is prov'd that the Poet need only follow common Opinion. All that appears absurd may be also justify'd by one of these three ways; or else by the Maxim we have already laid down, that it is probable, that a great many things may happen against Probability.”

A late Critick has taken notice of the Conformity of this Passage of Homer with that in the first Chapter of Ezekiel, The Spirit of the living Creatures was in the Wheels; when those went, these went, and when those stood, these stood; and when those were lifted up, the Wheels were lifted up over against them; for the Spirit of the living Creature was in the Wheels.

Full twenty Tripods for his Hall he fram'd,

That plac'd on living Wheels of massy Gold,
(Wond'rous to tell) instinct with Spirit roll'd
From Place to Place, around the blest Abodes,
Self-mov'd, obedient to the Beck of Gods:
For their fair Handles now, o'erwrought with Flow'rs,
In Molds prepar'd, the glowing Ore he pours.
Just as responsive to his Thought, the Frame
Stood prompt to move, the Azure Goddess came:
Charis, his Spouse, a Grace divinely fair,

Verse 450. A Footstool at her Feet.] It is at this Day the usual Honour paid amongst the Greeks, to a Visiter of superior Quality, to set them higher than the rest of the Company, and put a Footstool under their Feet. See Note 25. on Book 14. This, with innumerable other Customs, are still preserv'd in the Eastern Nations.

(With purple Fillets round her braided Hair)

Observ'd her ent'ring; her soft Hand she press'd,
And smiling, thus the wat'ry Queen address'd.

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What, Goddess! this unusual Favour draws?
All hail, and welcome! whatsoe'er the Cause:
Till now a Stranger, in a happy Hour
Approach, and taste the Dainties of the Bow'r.
High on a Throne, with Stars of silver grac'd
And various Artifice, the Queen she plac'd;
A Footstool at her Feet: then calling, said,

Verse 460. Vulcan draw near, 'tis Thetis asks your Aid.] The Story the Ancients tell, of Plato's Application of this Verse is worth observing. That great Philosopher had in his Youth a strong Inclination to Poetry, and not being satisfy'd to compose little Pieces of Gallantry and Amour, he tried his Forces in Tragedy and Epic Poetry; but the Success was not answerable to his Hopes: He compared his Performance with that of Homer, and was very sensible of the Difference. He therefore abandon'd a sort of Writing wherein at best he could only be the second, and turn'd his Views to an other, wherein he despaired not to become the first. His Anger transported him so far, as to cast all his Verses into the Fire. But while he was burning them, he could not help citing a Verse of the very Poet who had caus'd his Chagrin. It was the present Line, which Homer has put into the Mouth of Charis, when Thetis demands Arms for Achilles.

Ηφαιστε προμολ' ωδε, Θετις νυ τι σειο χατιζει.

Plato only inserted his own Name instead of that of Thetis.

Vulcan draw near, 'tis Plato asks your Aid.

If we credit the Ancients, it was the Discontentment his own Poetry gave him, that rais'd in him all the Indignation he afterwards express'd against the Art itself. In which (say they) he behaved like those Lovers, who speak ill of the Beauties whom they cannot prevail upon. Fraguier, Parall. de Hom. & de Platon.

Vulcan draw near, 'tis Thetis asks your Aid.

Verse 461. Thetis (reply'd the God) our Pow'rs may claim, &c.] Vulcan throws by his Work to perform Thetis's Request, who had laid former Obligations upon him; the Poet in this Example giving us an excellent Precept, that Gratitude should take place of all other Concerns.

The Motives which should engage a God in a new Travel in the Night-time upon a Suit of Armour for a Mortal, ought to be strong; and therefore artfully enough put upon the foot of Gratitude: Besides, they afford at the same time a noble Occasion for Homer to retail his Theology, which he is always very fond of.

The Allegory of Vulcan, or Fire (according to Heraclides) is this. His Father is Jupiter, or the Æther, his Mother Juno, or the Air, from whence he fell to us, whether by Lightning, or otherwise. He is said to be lame, that is, to want Support, because he cannot subsist without the continual Subsistance of Fuel. The Ætherial Fire, Homer calls Sol or Jupiter, the inferior Vulcan; the one wants nothing of Perfection, the other is subject to Decay, and is restor'd by Accession of Materials. Vulcan is said to fall from Heaven, because at first, when the Opportunity of obtaining Fire was not so frequent, Men prepared Instruments of Brass, by which they collected the Beams of the Sun; or else they gain'd it from accidental Lightning, that set fire to some combustible Matter. Vulcan had perish'd when he fell from Heaven unless Thetis and Eurynome had received him; that is, unless he had been preserv'd by falling into some convenient Receptacle, or subterranean Place; and so was afterwards distributed for the common Necessities of Mankind. To understand these strange Explications, it must be known, that Thetis is deriv'd from τιθημι to lay up, and Eurynome from ευρυς and νομη, a wide Distribution. They are call'd Daughters of the Ocean, because the Vapours and Exhalations of the Sea forming themselves into Clouds, find Nourishment for Lightnings.

Thetis (reply'd the God) our Pow'rs may claim,

An ever dear, and ever honour'd Name!
When my proud Mother hurl'd me from the Sky,
(My aukward Form, it seems, displeas'd her Eye)
She, and Eurynome, my Griefs redrest,
Tnd soft receiv'd me on their silver Breast.
Ev'n then, these Arts employ'd my infant Thought;
Chains, Bracelets, Pendants, all their Toys I wrought.
Nine Years kept secret in the dark Abode,
Secure I lay, conceal'd from Man and God:
Deep in a cavern'd Rock my Days were led;
The rushing Ocean murmur'd o'er my Head.
Now since her Presence glads our Mansion, say,
For such Desert what Service can I pay?

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Vouchsafe, O Thetis! at our Board to share
The genial Rites, and hospitable Fare;
While I my Labours of the Forge forego,
And bid the roaring Bellows cease to blow.
Then from his Anvil the lame Artist rose;
Wide with distorted Legs, oblique he goes,
And stills the Bellows, and (in order laid)
Locks in their Chest his Instruments of Trade.
Then with a Sponge the sooty Workman drest
His brawny Arms imbrown'd, and hairy Breast.
With his huge Scepter grac'd, and red Attire,
Came halting forth the Sov'reign of the Fire:

Verse 488. Two female Forms, That mov'd and breath'd in animated Gold.] It is very probable, that Homer took the Idea of these from the Statues of Dædalus, which might be extant in his Time. The Ancients tell us, they were made to imitate Life, in rolling their Eyes, and in all other Motions. From whence indeed it should seem, that the Excellency of Dædalus consisted in what we call Clock-work, or the Management of moving Figures by Springs, rather than in Sculpture or Imagery: And accordingly, the Fable of his fitting Wings to himself and his Son, is form'd entirely upon the Foundation of the former.

The Monarch's Steps two Female Forms uphold,

That mov'd, and breath'd in animated Gold;
To whom was Voice, and Sense, and Science given
Of Works divine (such Wonders are in Heav'n!)
On these supported, with unequal Gait,
He reach'd the Throne where pensive Thetis sate;
There plac'd beside her on the shining Frame,
He thus address'd the silver-footed Dame.
Thee, welcome Goddess! what Occasion calls,
(So long a Stranger) to these honour'd Walls?

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'Tis thine, fair Thetis, the Command to lay,
And Vulcan's Joy, and Duty, to obey,
To whom the mournful Mother thus replies,
(The crystal Drops stood trembling in her Eyes)
Oh Vulcan! say, was ever Breast divine
So pierc'd with Sorrows, so o'erwhelm'd as mine?
Of all the Goddesses, did Jove prepare
For Thetis only such a Weight of Care?
I, only I, of all the wat'ry Race,
By Force subjected to a Man's Embrace,
Who, sinking now with Age, and Sorrow, pays
The mighty Fine impos'd on length of Days.
Sprung from my Bed a god-like Hero came,
The bravest sure that ever bore the Name;
Like some fair Plant beneath my careful Hand
He grew, he flourish'd, and he grac'd the Land:
To Troy I sent him! but his native Shore
Never, ah never, shall receive him more;
(Ev'n while he lives, he wastes with secret Woe)
Nor I, a Goddess, can retard the Blow!

Verse 518. Robb'd of the Prize, &c.] Thetis to compass her Design, recounts every thing to the Advantage of her Son; she therefore suppresses the Episode of the Embassy, the Prayers that had been made use of to move him, and all that the Greeks had suffer'd after the Return of the Ambassadors; and artfully puts together two very distant things, as if they had follow'd each other in the same Moment. He declin'd, says she, to succour the Greeks, but he sent Patroclus. Now between his refusing to help the Greeks, and his sending Patroclus, terrible things had fallen out; but she suppresses them, for fear of offending Vulcan with the recital of Achilles's inflexible Obduracy, and thereby create in that God an Aversion to her Son. Eustathius.

Robb'd of the Prize the Grecian Suffrage gave,

The King of Nations forc'd his royal Slave:

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For this he griev'd; and till the Greeks opprest
Requir'd his Arm, he sorrow'd unredrest.
Large Gifts they promise, and their Elders send;
In vain—He arms not, but permits his Friend
His Arms, his Steeds, his Forces to employ;
He marches, combates, almost conquers Troy:

Verse 526. Then slain by Phœbus (Hector had the Name) It is a Passage worth taking notice of, that Brutus is said to have consulted the Sortes Homericæ, and to have drawn one of these Lines, wherein the Death of Patroclus is ascribed to Apollo: After which, unthinkingly, he gave the Name of that God for the Word of Battel. This is remarked as an unfortunate Omen by some of the Ancients, tho' I forget where I met with it.

Then slain by Phœbus (Hector had the Name)

At once resigns his Armour, Life, and Fame.
But thou, in Pity, by my Pray'r be won;
Grace with immortal Arms this short-liv'd Son,
And to the Field in martial Pomp restore,
To shine with Glory, till he shines no more!
To her the Artist-God. Thy Griefs resign,
Secure, what Vulcan can, is ever thine.
O could I hide him from the Fates as well,
Or with these Hands the cruel Stroke repell,
As I shall forge most envy'd Arms, the Gaze
Of wond'ring Ages, and the World's Amaze!

Verse 537. The Father of the Fires, &c.] The Ancients (says Eustathius) have largely celebrated the philosophical Mysteries which they imagined to be shadowed under these Descriptions, especially Damo (suppos'd the Daughter of Pythagoras) whose Explication is as follows. Thetis, who receives the Arms, means the apt Order and Disposition of all things in the Creation. By the Fire and the Wind rais'd by the Bellows, are meant Air and Fire the most active of all the Elements. The Emanations of the Fire are those golden Maids, that waited on Vulcan. The circular Shield is the World, being of a sphærical Figure. The Gold, the Brass, the Silver, and the Tin are the Elements: Gold is Fire, the firm Brass is Earth, the Silver is Air, and the soft Tin, Water. And thus far (say they) Homer speaks a little obscurely, but afterwards he names 'em expressly, εν μεν γαιαν ετευξ', εν δ' ου'ρανον, εν δε θαλασσαν, to which, for the fourth Element, you must add Vulcan, who makes the Shield. The extreme Circle that run round the Shield which he calls splendid and threefold, is the Zodiack; threefold for its Breadth, within which all the Planets move; splendid, because the Sun passes always thro' the midst of it. The silver Handle by which the Shield is fastened at both Extremities, is the Axis of the World, imagin'd to pass thro it, and upon which it turns. The five folds are those parallel Circles that divide the World, the Polar, the Tropicks, and the Æquator.

Heraclides Ponticus thus pursues the Allegory. Homer (says he) makes the working of his Shield, that is the World, to be begun by Night, as indeed all Matter lay undistinguish'd in an original and universal Night; which is called Chaos by the Poets.

To bring the matter of the Shield to Separation and Form, Vulcan presides over the Work, or as we may say, an essential Warmth: All things, says Heraclitus, being made by the Operation of Fire.

And because the Architect is at this time to give a Form and Ornament to the World he is making, it is not rashly that he is said to be married to one of the Graces.

On the broad Shield the Maker's Hand engraves
The Earth and Seas beneath, the Pole above,
The Sun unwearied, and the circled Moon.

Thus in the Beginning of the World, he first lays the Earth as the Foundation of a Building, whose Vacancies are fill'd up with the Flowings of the Sea. Then he spreads out the Sky for a kind of divine Roof over it, and lights the Elements, now separated from their former Confusion, with the Sun, the Moon,

And all those Stars that crown the Skies with Fire:

Where, by the Word crown, which gives the Idea of Roundness, he again hints at the Figure of the World; and tho' he cou'd not particularly name the Stars like Aratus (who profess'd to write upon them) yet he has not omitted to mention the principal. From hence he passes to represent two Allegorical Cities, one of Peace, the other of War; Empedocles seems to have taken from Homer his Assertion, that all Things had their Original from Strife and Friendship.

All these Refinements (not to call 'em absolute Whimsies) I leave just as I found 'em, to the Reader's Judgment or Mercy.

Thus having said, the Father of the Fires

To the black Labours of his Forge retires.
Soon as he bade them blow, the Bellows turn'd
Their iron Mouths; and where the Furnace burn'd,

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Resounding breath'd: At once the Blast expires,
And twenty Forges catch at once the Fires;
Just as the God directs, now loud, now low,
They raise a Tempest, or they gently blow.
In hissing Flames huge silver Bars are roll'd,
And stubborn Brass, and Tin, and solid Gold:
Before, deep fix'd, th'eternal Anvils stand;
The pond'rous Hammer loads his better Hand,
His left with Tongs turns the vex'd Metal round;
And thick, strong Strokes, the doubling Vaults rebound.
Then first he form'd th'immense and solid Shield;
Rich, various Artifice emblaz'd the Field;
Its utmost Verge a threefold Circle bound;
A silver Chain suspends the massy Round,
Five ample Plates the broad Expanse compose,
And god-like Labours on the Surface rose.
There shone the Image of the Master Mind:
There Earth, there Heav'n, there Ocean he design'd;
Th'unweary'd Sun, the Moon compleatly round;
The starry Lights that Heav'ns high Convex crown'd;
The Pleiads, Hyads, with the Northern Team;
And great Orion's more refulgent Beam;

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To which, around the Axle of the Sky,
The Bear revolving, points his golden Eye,
Still shines exalted on th'ætherial Plain,

Verse 566. Nor bends his blazing Forehead to the Main.] The Criticks have made use of this Passage, to prove that Homer was ignorant of Astronomy; since he believ'd, that the Bear was the only Constellation which never bathed itself in the Ocean, that is to say that did not set, and was always visible; for say they, this is common to other Constellations of the Artick Circle, as the lesser Bear, the Dragon, the greatest part of Cepheus, &c. To salve Homer, Aristotle answers, That he calls it the only one, to shew that 'tis the only one of those Constellations he had spoken of, or that he has put the only, for the principal or the most known. Strabo justifies this after another manner, in the Beginning of his first Book. “Under the Name of the Bear and the Chariot, Homer comprehends all the Artick Circle; for there being several other Stars in that Circle which never set, he could not say, that the Bear was the only one which did not bath itself in the Ocean; wherefore those are deceived, who accuse the Poet of Ignorance, as if he knew one Bear only when there are two; for the lesser was not found out in his Time. The Phœnicians were the first who observ'd it and made use of it in their Navigation; and the Figure of that Sign passed from them to the Greeks: The same thing happen'd in regard to the Constellation of Berenice's Hair, and that of Canopus, which receiv'd those Names very lately; and as Aratus says well, there are several other Stars which have no Names. Crates was then in the wrong to endeavour to correct this Passage, in putting οιος for οιη, for he tries to avoid that which there is no occasion to avoid. Heraclitus did better, who put the Bear for the Artick Circle as Homer has done. The Bear (says he) is the Limit of the rising and setting of the Stars.” Now it is the Artic Circle, and not the Bear which is that Limit. “'Tis therefore evident, that by the Word Bear, which he calls the Waggon, and which he says observes Orion, he understands the Artick Circle; that by the Ocean he means the Horizon where the Stars rise and set; and by those Words, which turns in the same place, and doth not bath itself in the Ocean, he shews that the Artick Circle is the most Northern Part of the Horizon, &c. Dacier on Arist.

Mons. Terasson combates this Passage with great Warmth. But it will be a sufficient Vindication of our Author to say, that some other Constellations, which are likewise perpetually above the Horizon in the Latitude where Homer writ, were not at that time discovered; and that whether Homer knew that the Bear's not setting was occasion'd by the Latitude, and that in a smaller Latitude it would set, is of no consequence; for if he had known it, it was still more poetical not to take notice of it.

Nor bends his blazing Forehead to the Main.

Verse 467. Two Cities, &c.] In one of these Cities are represented all the Advantages of Peace: And it was impossible to have chosen two better Emblems of Peace, than Marriages and Justice. 'Tis said this City was Athens, for Marriages were first instituted there by Cecrops; and Judgment upon Murder was first founded there. The ancient State of Attica seems represented in the neighbouring Fields, where the Ploughers and Reapers are at work, and a King is overlooking them; for Triptolemus who reigned there, was the first who sowed Corn: This was the Imagination of Agallias Cercyreus, as we find him cited by Eustathius.

Two Cities radiant on the Shield appear,

The Image one of Peace, and one of War.
Here sacred Pomp, and genial Feast delight,
And solemn Dance, and Hymenæal Rite;
Along the Street the new-made Brides are led,
With Torches flaming, to the nuptial Bed;
The youthful Dancers in a Circle bound
To the soft Flute, and Cittern's silver Sound:
Thro' the fair Streets, the Matrons in a Row,
Stand in their Porches, and enjoy the Show.
There, in the Forum swarm a num'rous Train;
The Subject of Debate, a Townsman slain:

Verse 579. The Fine discharg'd.] Murder was not always punish'd with Death, or so much as Banishment; but when some Fine was paid, the Criminal was suffer'd to remain in the City. So Iliad 9.

------ Και μεν τις τε κασιγνητοιο φονοιο
Ποινην, η ου παιδος εδεξατο τεθνειωτος.
Και ρ ο μεν εν δημω μενει αυτου πολλ' αποτισας.
------ If a Brother bleed,
On just Atonement, we remit the Deed;
A Sire the Slaughter of his Son forgives,
The Price of Blood discharg'd, the Murd'rer lives.
One pleads the Fine discharg'd, which one deny'd,

And bade the Publick and the Laws decide:
The Witness is produc'd on either Hand;
For this, or that, the partial People stand:
Th'appointed Heralds still the noisy Bands,
And form a Ring, with Scepters in their Hands;

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On Seats of Stone, within the sacred Place,
The rev'rend Elders nodded o'er the Case;
Alternate, each th'attesting Scepter took,
And rising solemn, each his Sentence spoke.
Two golden Talents lay amidst, in sight,

Verse 590. The Prize of him who best adjudg'd the Right.] Eustathius informs us, that it was anciently the Custom to have a Reward given to that Judge who pronounced the best Sentence. M. Dacier opposes this Authority, and will have it, that this Reward was given to the Person who upon the Decision of the Suit appear'd to have the justest Cause. The Difference between these two Customs, in the Reason of the thing, is very great: For the one must have been an Encouragement to Justice, the other a Provocation to Dissension. It were to be wanting in a due Reverence to the Wisdom of the Ancients, and of Homer in particular, not to chuse the former Sense: And I have the Honour to be confirmed in this Opinion, by the ablest Judge, as well as the best Practiser, of Equity, my Lord Harcourt, at whose Seat I translated this Book.

The Prize of him who best adjudg'd the Right.

Verse 591. Another Part (a Prospect diff'rent far, &c.] The same Agallias, cited above, would have this City in War to be meant of Eleusina, but upon very slight Reasons. What is wonderful is, that all the Accidents and Events of War are set before our Eyes in this short Compass. The several Scenes are excellently dispos'd to represent the whole Affair. Here is in the space of thirty Lines a Siege, a Sally, an Ambush, the Surprize of a Convoy, and a Battel; with scarce a single Circumstance proper to any of these, omitted.

Another Part (a Prospect diff'ring far)

Glow'd with refulgent Arms, and horrid War.
Two mighty Hosts a leaguer'd Town embrace,
And one would pillage, one wou'd burn the Place.
Meantime the Townsmen, arm'd with silent Care,
A secret Ambush on the Foe prepare:
Their Wives, their Children, and the watchful Band,
Of trembling Parents on the Turrets stand.
They march; by Pallas and by Mars made bold;
Gold were the Gods, their radiant Garments Gold,
And Gold their Armour: These the Squadron led,
August, Divine, Superior by the Head!
A Place for Ambush fit, they found, and stood
Cover'd with Shields, beside a silver Flood.
Two Spies at distance lurk, and watchful seem
If Sheep or Oxen seek the winding Stream.

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Soon the white Flocks proceeded o'er the Plains,
And Steers slow-moving, and two Shepherd Swains;
Behind them, piping on their Reeds, they go,
Nor fear an Ambush, nor suspect a Foe.
In Arms the glitt'ring Squadron rising round
Rush sudden; Hills of Slaughter heap the Ground,
Whole Flocks and Herds lye bleeding on the Plains,
And, all amidst them, dead, the Shepherd wains!
The bellowing Oxen the Besiegers hear;
They rise, take Horse, approach, and meet the War;
They fight, they fall, beside the silver Flood;
The waving Silver seem'd to blush with Blood.
There Tumult, there Contention stood confest;
One rear'd a Dagger at a Captive's Breast,
One held a living Foe, that freshly bled
With new-made Wounds; another dragg'd a dead;
Now here, now there, the Carcasses they tore:
Fate stalk'd amidst them, grim with human Gore.
And the whole War came out, and met the Eye;
And each bold Figure seem'd to live, or die.

Verse 627. A Field deep-furrow'd, &c.] Here begin the Descriptions of rural Life, in which Homer appears as great a Master as in the great and terrible Parts of Poetry. One wou'd think, he did this on purpose to rival his Contemporary Hesiod, on those very Subjects to which his Genius was particularly bent. Upon this Occasion, I must take notice of that Greek Poem, which is commonly ascribed to Hesiod under the Title of Ασπις Ηρακλεος. Some of the Ancients mention such a Work as Hesiod's, but that amounts to no Proof that this is the same: Which indeed is not an express Poem upon the Shield of Hercules, but Fragment of the Story of that Hero. What regards the Shield is a manifest Copy from this of Achilles; and consequently it is not of Hesiod. For if he was not more Ancient, he was at least Contemporary with Homer: And neither of them could be supposed to borrow so shamelesly from the other, not only the Plan of entire Descriptions, (as those of the Marriage, the Harvest, the Vineyard, the Ocean round the Margin, &c.) but also whole Verses together: Those of the Parca in the Battel, are repeated Word for Word,

------ εν δ' ολοη Κηρ,
Αλλον ζωον εχουσα νεουτατον, αλλον αουτον,
Αλλον τεθνειωτα κατα μοθον ελκε ποδοιιν.
Ειμα δ' εχ' αμφ' ωμοισι δαφοινεον αιματι φωτων.

And indeed half the Poem is but a sort of Cento compos'd out of Homer's Verses. The Reader needs only cast an Eye on these two Descriptions, to see the vast Difference of the Original and the Copy; and I dare say he will readily agree with the Sentiment of Monsieur Dacier, in applying to them that famous Verse of Sannazarius,

Illum hominem dices, hunc posuisse Deum.

Verse id.] I ought not to forget the many apparent Allusions to the Descriptions on this Shield, which are to be found in those Pictures of Peace and War, the City and Countrey, in the eleventh Book of Milton: Who was doubtless fond of any Occasion to shew, how much he was charm'd with the Beauty of all these lively Images. He makes his Angel paint those Objects which he shews to Adam, in the Colours, and almost the very Strokes of Homer. Such is that Passage of the Harvest-field,

His Eye he open'd, and beheld a Field
Part Arable and Tilth, whereon were Sheaves
New-reap'd; the other Part Sheep-walks and Folds.
In midst an Altar, as the Landmark, stood,
Rustic, of grassy sord, &c.

That of the Marriages,

They light the nuptial Torch, and bid invoke
Hymen (then first to marriage Rites invok'd)
With Feast and Musick all the Tents resound.

But more particularly, the following Lines are in a manner a Translation of our Author.

One way, a Band select from Forage drives
A Herd of Beeves, fair Oxen, and fair Kine
From a fat Meadow-ground; or fleecy Flock,
Ewes and their bleating Lambs, across the Plain,
Their Booty: Scarce with Life the Shepherds fly,
But call in Aid, which makes a bloody Fray,
With cruel Tournament the Squadrons join
Where Cattel pastur'd late, now scatter'd lies
With Carcasses and Arms th'ensanguin'd Field
Deserted.—Others to a City strong
Lay siege, encamp'd; by Battery, Scale, and Mine
Assaulting; others from the Wall defend
With Dart and Jav'lin, Stones, and sulph'rous Fire:
On each hand Slaughter and gigantic Deeds.
In other part, the scepter'd Heralds call
To Council in the City Gates: anon
Grey-headed Men and grave, with Warriors mixt,
Assemble, and Harangues are heard ------
A Field deep furrow'd, next the God design'd,

The third time labour'd by the sweating Hind;

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The shining Shares full many Plowmen guide,
And turn their crooked Yokes on ev'ry side.
Still as at either End they wheel around,
The Master meets 'em with his Goblet crown'd;
The hearty Draught rewards, renews their Toil;
Then back the turning Plow-shares cleave the Soil:
The new-ear'd Earth in blacker Ridges-roll'd;
Sable it look'd, tho form'd of molten Gold.
Another Field rose high with waving Grain;
With bended Sickles stand the Reaper-Train:
Here stretch'd in Ranks the level'd Swarths are found,
Sheaves heap'd on Sheaves, here thicken up the Ground.
With sweeping Stroke the Mowers strow the Lands;
The Gath'rers follow, and collect in Bands;
And last the Children, in whose Arms are born
(Too short to gripe them) the brown Sheaves of Corn.

Verse 645. The rustic Monarch of the Field.] Dacier takes this to be a piece of Ground given to a Hero in reward of his Services. It was in no respect unworthy such a Person, in those Days, to see his Harvest got in, and to overlook his Reapers: It is very conformable to the Manners of the ancient Patriarchs, such as they are describ'd to us in the Holy Scriptures.

The rustic Monarch of the Field descries

With silent Glee, the Heaps around him rise.
A ready Banquet on the Turf is laid,
Beneath an ample Oak's expanded Shade.
The Victim-Ox the sturdy Youth prepare;
The Reaper's due Repast, the Women's Care.

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Next, ripe in yellow Gold, a Vineyard shines,
Bent with the pond'rous Harvest of its Vines;
A deaper Dye the dangling Clusters show,
And curl'd on silver Props, in order glow:
A darker Metal mixt, intrench'd the Place;
And Pales of glitt'ring Tin th'Enclosure grace.
To this, one Pathway gently winding leads,
Where march a Train with Baskets on their Heads,
(Fair Maids, and blooming Youths) that smiling bear
The purple Product of th'Autumnal Year.
To these a Youth awakes the warbling Strings,

Verse 662. The Fate of Linus .] There are two Interpretations of this Verse in the Original: That which I have chosen is confirm'd by the Testimony of Herodotus lib. 2. and Pausanias, Bœoticis. Linus was the most ancient Name in Poetry, the first upon Record who invented Verse and Measure among the Grecians: He past for the Son of Apollo or Mercury, and was Præceptor to Hercules, Thamyris, and Orpheus. There was a solemn Custom among the Greeks of bewailing annually the Death of their first Poet: Pausanias informs us, that before the yearly Sacrifice to the Muses on Mount Helicon, the Obsequies of Linus were perform'd, who had a Statue and Altar erected to him, in that Place. Homer alludes to that Custom in this Passage, and was doubtless fond of paying this Respect to the old Father of Poetry. Virgil has done the same in that Fine Celebration of him, Eclog. 6.

Tum canit errantem Permessi ad flumina Gallum,
Utque viro Phœbi chorus assurrexerit omnis;
Ut Linus hæc illi, divino carmine, pastor
(Floribus atque apio crines ornatus amaro)
Dixerit ------ &c.

And again in the fourth Eclog.

Non me carminibus vincet nec Thracius Orpheus,
Nec Linus; huic Mater, quamvis atq; huic Pater adsit,
Orpheo Calliopea, Lino formosus Apollo.
Whose tender Lay the Fate of Linus sings;

In measur'd Dance behind him move the Train,
Tune soft the Voice, and answer to the Strain.
Here, Herds of Oxen march, erect and bold,
Rear high their Horns, and seem to lowe in Gold,
And speed to Meadows on whose sounding Shores
A rapid Torrent thro' the Rushes roars:
Four golden Herdsmen as their Guardians stand,
And nine sour Dogs compleat the rustic Band.
Two Lions rushing from the Wood appear'd;
And seiz'd a Bull, the Master of the Herd:

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He roar'd: in vain the Dogs, the Men withstood,
They tore his Flesh, and drank the sable Blood.
The Dogs (oft' chear'd in vain) desert the Prey,
Dread the grim Terrors, and at distance bay.
Next this, the Eye the Art of Vulcan leads
Deep thro' fair Forests, and a Length of Meads;
And Stalls, and Folds, and scatter'd Cotts between;
And fleecy Flocks, that whiten all the Scene.

Verse 681. A figur'd Dance.] There were two sorts of Dances, the Pyrrhick, and the common Dance: Homer has joyn'd both in this Description. We see the Pyrrhick, or Military, is perform'd by the Youths who have Swords on, the other by the Virgins crown'd with Garlands.

Here the ancient Scholiasts say, that whereas before it was the Custom for Men and Women to dance separately, the contrary Practice was afterwards brought in, by seven Youths, and as many Virgins, who were sav'd by Theseus from the Labyrinth; and that this Dance was taught them by Dædalus: To which Homer here alludes. See Dion. Halic. Hist. l. 7. c. 68.

It is worth observing that the Grecian Dance is still perform'd in this manner in the Oriental Nations: The Youths and Maids dance in a Ring, beginning slowly; by Degrees the Musick plays a quicker time, till at last they dance with the utmost Swiftness: And towards the Conclusion, they sing (as it is said here) in a general Chorus.

A figur'd Dance succeeds: Such once was seen

In lofty Gnossus, for the Cretan Queen,
Form'd by Dædalean Art. A comely Band
Of Youths and Maidens, bounding Hand in Hand;
The Maids in soft Cymarrs of Linen drest;
The Youths all graceful in the glossy Vest;
Of those the Locks with flow'ry Wreaths inroll'd,
Of these the Sides adorn'd with Swords of Gold,
That glitt'ring gay, from silver Belts depend.
Now all at once they rise, at once descend,
With well-taught Feet: Now shape, in oblique ways,
Confus'dly regular, the moving Maze:
Now forth at once, too swift for sight, they spring,
And undistinguish'd blend the flying Ring:

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So whirls a Wheel, in giddy Circle tost,
And rapid as it runs, the single Spokes are lost.
The gazing Multitudes admire around;
Two active Tumblers in the Center bound;
Now high, now low, their pliant Limbs they bend,
And gen'ral Songs the sprightly Revel end.
Thus the broad Shield complete the Artist crown'd
With his last Hand, and pour'd the Ocean round:
In living Silver seem'd the Waves to roll,
And beat the Buckler's Verge, and bound the whole.
This done, whate'er a Warrior's Use requires
He forg'd; the Cuirass that outshone the Fires;
The Greaves of ductile Tin, the Helm imprest
With various Sculpture, and the golden Crest.
At Thetis' Feet the finish'd Labour lay;
She, as a Falcon cuts th'Aerial way,
Swift from Olympus' snowy Summit flies,
And bears the blazing Present through the Skies.