Phœbus himself the dire debate procur'd,

fierce

T' avenge the wrongs his injur'd priest endur'd;
For this the God a dire infection spread,
And heap'd the camp with millions of the dead;
The King of men the Sacred Sire defy'd,
And for the King's offence the people dy'd.

"For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain
His captive daughter from the Victor's chain;
Suppliant the venerable Father stands,
Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands;
By these he begs, and, lowly bending down,
Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown."

For Chryses sought by presents to regain
costly gifts to gain
His captive daughter from the Victor's chain!
Suppliant the venerable Father stands,
Apollo's awful ensigns grac'd his hands.
By these he begs, and, lowly bending down
The golden sceptre and the laurel crown,
Presents the sceptre

For these as ensigns of his God he bare
The God that sends his golden shafts afar;
Then, low on earth, the venerable man,
Suppliant, before the brother kings began.

"He sued to all, but chief implor'd for grace
The brother kings of Atreus' royal race:
Ye kings and warriors, may your vows be crown'd,
And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground;
May Jove restore you, when your toils are o'er,
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore."

To all he sued, but chief implor'd for grace
The brother Kings of Atreus' royal race:
Ye sons of Atreus, may your vows be crown'd,
Kings and warriors

Your labours, by the Gods be all your labours crown'd,

So may the Gods your arms with conquest

bless, And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground; Till laid

And crown your labours with deserv'd success;
May Jove restore you, when your toils are o'er,
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.

"But, oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain,
And give Chryseis to these arms again;
If mercy fail, yet let my present move,
And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove."

But, oh! relieve a hapless parent's pain,
And give my daughter to these arms again;
Receive my gifts; if mercy fails, yet let my pre-
sent move,

And fear the God that deals his darts around. avenging Phoebus, son of Jove.

"The Greeks, in shouts, their joint assent declare,
The priest to reverence and release the fair.
Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride,
Repuls'd the sacred Sire, and thus reply'd."

He said, the Greeks their joint assent declare,
The father said, the gen'rous Greeks relent,
T' accept the ransom, and release the fair;
Revere the priest, and speak their joint assent;
Not so the tyrant, he, with kingly pride,

Atrides

Repuls'd the sacred Sire, and thus reply'd. [Not so the tyrant. DRYDEN.]

Of these lines, and of the whole first book, I am told that there was yet a former copy, more varied, and more deformed with interlineations.

The beginning of the second book varies very little from the printed page, and is therefore set down without a parallel; the few differences do not require to be elaborately displayed.

"Now pleasing sleep had seal'd each mortal

eye;

Stretch'd in their tents the Grecian leaders lie;
Th' Immortals slumber'd on their thrones above,
All but the ever-watchful eye of Jove.

To honour Thetis' son he bends his care,
And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war.
Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight,
And thus commands the vision of the night:

directs

Fly hence delusive dream, and, light as air,
To Agamemnon's royal tent repair;

Bid him in arms draw forth th' embattled train,
March all his legions to the dusty plain.
Now tell the King 'tis giv'n him to destroy
Declare ev'n now

The lofty walls of wide-extended Troy ;

tow'rs

For now no more the Gods with fate contend;
At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction hovers o'er yon devoted wall,
hangs

And nodding Ilium waits th' impending fall."

Invocation to the catalogue of ships.

"Say, Virgins, seated round the throne divine, All-knowing Goddesses! immortal Nine!

Since Earth's wide regions, Heav'ns unmeasur'd height,

And Hell's abyss, hide nothing from your sight,
(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,
But guess by rumour, and but boast we know)
Oh! say what heroes, fir'd by thirst of fame,
Or urg'd by wrongs, to Troy's destruction came!
To count them all demands a thousand tongues,
A throat of brass and adamantine lungs."

Now, Virgin Goddesses, immortal Nine!
That round Olympus' heavenly summit shine,

Who see through Heaven and Earth, and Hell

profound,

And all things know, and all things can resound! Relate what armies sought the Trojan land,

What nations follow'd, and what chiefs command;

(For doubtful fame distracts mankind below, And nothing can we tell and nothing know) Without your aid, to count th' unnumber'd train, A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues, were vain.

Book v. v. 1.

"But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,

Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires;
Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise,
And crown her hero with distinguish'd praise.
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray;

Th' unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires th' autumnal skies."

But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,

Fills with her rage, and warms with all her fires;

force

O'er all the Greeks decrees his fame to raise, Above the Greeks her warrior's fame to raise, his deathless

And crown her hero with immortal praise:

distinguish'd

Bright from his beamy crest the lightnings play,

High on

helm

From his broad buckler flash'd the living ray; High on his helm celestial lightnings play, His beamy shield emits a living ray;

The Goddess with her breath the flames supplies, Bright as the star whose fires in Autumn rise; Her breath divine thick streaming flames supplies,

Bright as the star that fires th' autumnal skies:

Th' unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies, Like the red star that fires th' autumnal skies:

"When first he rears his radiant orb to sight, And, bath'd in ocean, shoots a keener light. Such glories Pallas on the chief bestow'd, Such from his arms the fierce effulgence flow'd; Onward she drives him, furious to engage, Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage."

When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight, And gilds old Ocean with a blaze of light. Bright as the star that fires th' autumnal skies, Fresh from the deep, and gilds the seas and skies:

Such glories Pallas on her chief bestow'd, Such sparkling rays from his bright armour flow'd:

Such from his arms the fierce effulgence flow'd; Onward she drives him headlong to engage,

furious

Where the war bleeds, and where the fiercest rage. fight burns, thickest

"The sons of Dares first the combat sought,
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault;
In Vulcan's fane the father's days were led,
The sons to toils of glorious battle bred;"

There liv'd a Trojan-Dares was his name,
The priest of Vulcan, rich, yet void of blame;
The sons of Dares first the combat sought,
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault.

Conclusion of Book viii. v. 687.

"As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, O'er Heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light, When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,

And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene;