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And I, who late th' embattled Greeks could dare,
Their flying darts, and whole embody'd war,
Now take alarm, while horrors reign around,
At every breeze, and start at every found.
With fancy'd fears my busy thoughts were wild:
For my dear father, and endanger'd child.
Now, to the city gates approaching near,
I seem the sound of trampling feet to hear.
Alarm'd my fire look'd forward thro' the shade,
And, Fly, my son, they come, they come, he said;
Lo! from their shields I fee their splendours stream;
And ken diftinét the helmet's fiery gleam.
And here, some envious god, in this dismay,
This sudden terror, snatch'd my
For while o'er devious paths I wildly trod,
Studious to wander from the beaten road;
I loft my deareft Creusa, nor can tell
From that:sad moment, if by fate she fell;
Or sunk fatiguld; or stragg!'d from the train;
But ah! she never blelt these eyes again!
Nor, till to Ceres? ancient wall we came,
Did I suspect her toft, or miss the dame.
There all the train assembled, all but she
Loft to her friends, her father, son, and me.
What men, what gods did my wild fury spare ?
At both I rav'd, and madden'd with despair,
In Troy's last ruins did I ever know
A scene fo cruel ! such transcendent woe!
Our gods, my son, and father to the train
I next commend, and hide them in the plain;
Then fly for Troy, and shine in arms again.
Resolv'd the burning town, to wander o'er,
And tempt the dangers that I 'scap'd before.
Now to the gate I run with furious. haste,
Whence first from llion to the plain.I paft :
Dart round my eyes in every place in vain,
And tread my former footsteps o'er again,
Surrounding horrors all my soul affright;
And more the dreadful silence of the night.
Next to my house I flew without delay,
If there, if haply there she bent her way.
In vain-the conquering fues had enter'd there;
High o'er the dome, the flames emblaze the air ;
Fierce to devour, the fiery tempeft flies,
Swells in the wind, and thunders to the skies.
Back to th' embattled citadel I ran,
And search'd her father's regal walls in vain
Ulysses now and Phoenix I survey,
Who guard, in Juno's fane, the gather'd prey ;
In one huge heap the Trojan wealth was rullid,
Refulgent robes, and bowls of masly gold;
A pile of tables on the pavement nods,
Snatch'd from the blazing temples of the gods;
A mighty train of shrieking mothers bound,
Stood with their captive children trembling round.
Yet more-I boldly raise my voice on high,
And in the shade on dear Creusa cry;
Call on her name a thousand times in vain,
but still repeat the darling name again,
THE PARTING OF HERTOR AND
SILENT the warrior smild, and pleas'd resign'd,
To tender passions all his mighty mind :
His beautious princess cast a mournful look,
Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke;
Her bosom labour'd with a boding figh,
And the big téar stood trembling in her eye,
Too daring prince! ah, whither doft thou run?
Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and fon!
And think'lt thou not how wretched we shall be,
A widow I, an hapless orphan be!
For sure such courage length of life denies,
And thou must fall, thy virtue's facrifice.
Greece in her single, heroes (trove in vain ;
Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be flain !
Oh grant me, gods ! ere Hector meets his doom,
All I can ask of Heaven, an early tomb!
So shall my days in one sad tenor run,
And end with forrows as they first begun.
No parent now remains, my griefs to share,
No father's aid, no mother's tender care,
The fierce Achilles wrapt our walls in fire,
Laid Thebe waste, and flew my warlike fire !
His fate compassion in the victor bred;
he yet rever'd the dead,
His radiant arms preserv'd from hostile spoil,
And laid him decent on the funeral pile;
Then rais'd a mountain where his bones were burn'd,
The mountain-nymphs the rural tomb adorn'd.
Jove's fylvan daughters bade their elms bestow
A barren shade, and in his honour grow.
By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell,
in one fad day beheld the gates of hell;
While the fat herds and snowy flocks they fed,
Amid their fields the hapless heroes bled!
My mother liv'd to bear the victor's bands,
The queen of Hippoplacia's sylvan lands :
Redeem's too late, she scarce beheld again
Her pleasing empire and her native plain,
When ah! oppreft by life-consuming woe,
She fell a victim to Diana's bow.
Yet while my Hector still survives, I see
My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee.
Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all,
Once more will perish if my Hector fall.
Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share :
Oh prove a hutband's and a father's care !
That quarter most the tkilful Greeks annoy,
Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall of Troy
Thou, from this tower defend th' important poft ;
There Agamemnon points bis dreadful hoft,
That pass Tidides, Ajax, strive to gain,
And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train.
Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given,
Or led by hopes, or dictated from Heaven.
Let others in the fields their arms' employ,
But ftay my Hector here, and guard his Troy.
The chief reply'd : that post thall be my care,
Nor that alone, but all the works of war.
How would the fons of Troy, in arms renown'd,
And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the
Attaint the luftre of my former name,
Should Hector barely quit the field of fame!
My early youth was bred to martial pains,
My soul impels me to the embattled plains :
Let me be foremost to defend the throne,
And guard my father's glories, and my own.
Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates;
(How my heart trembles while my tongue relates !!
The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend,
And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end.
And yet no dire prefage so wounds my mind,
My mother's death, the ruin of my kind,
Not Priam's hoary hairs defil'd with gore,
Not all my brothers gasping on the shore;
As thine, Andromache! thy griefs I dread;
I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led !
In Argive looms our battles to design,
And woes, of which so large a part was thine!
To bear the victor's hard commands, or bring
The weight of waters from Hyperia's spring.
There, while you groan beneath the load of life,
They cry, behold the mighty Hector's wife!
Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to fee,
Embitters all thy woes, by naming me.
The thoughts of glory pait, and present shame,
A thousand griefs shall waken at the name;
May I lie cold before that dreadful day,
Prest with a load of monumental clay!
Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep,
Shall neither hear thee figh, nor see thee weep.
Thus having (poke, the illustrious chief of Troy
Stretch'd his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy.
The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast,
Scar'd at the dazzling helm, and nodding creft.
With secret pleasure each fond parent smilia,
And Hector hasted to relieve his child,
The glittering terrors from his brows unbound,
And plac'd the beaming helmet on the ground.
Then kiss'd the child, and lifting high in air,
Thus to the gods prefer'd a father's prayer.
O thou, whose glory fills the ethereal throne,
And all ye deathless powers! protect my fon!
Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown,
To guard the Trojáns, to defend the crown,
Against his country's foes the war to wage,
And rise the Hector of the future age !
So when triumphant from successful toils,
of heroes sain he bears the reeking spoils,
Whole hosts may hail him with deserv'd acclaim,
And say, This chief transcends his father's fame :