While pleased, amidst the general shouts of Troy, His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy.' He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms, Restored the pleasing burden to her arms; Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid, Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey'd. The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear, She mingled with a smile a tender tear. The soften'd chief with kind compassion view'd, And dried the falling drops, and thus pursued'Andromache! my soul's far better part, Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart? No hostile hand can antedate my doom, Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb. Fix'd is the term of all the race of earth; And such the hard condition of our birth: No force can then resist, no flight can save, All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. No more-but hasten to thy tasks at home, There guide the spindle, and direct the loom: Me glory summons to the martial scene, The field of combat is the sphere for men. Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, The first in danger as the first in fame.' Thus having said, the glorious chief resumes His towery helmet, black with shading plumes. His princess parts, with a prophetic sigh, Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye That stream'd at every look: then, moving slow, Sought her own palace, and indulged her woe. HOMER. POPE. THE SPEECH OF ACHILLES. THEN thus the goddess-born- Ulysses, hear My tongue shall utter, and my deeds make good. Then thus in short my fix'd resolves attend, Who yields ignobly, or who bravely dies. Her wives, her infants, by my labours saved; Then at Atrides' haughty feet were laid The wealth I gather'd, and the spoils I made. Your mighty monarch these in peace possess'd; Some few my soldiers had, himself the rest. Some present too to every prince was paid; And every prince enjoys the gift he made : I only must refund, of all his train; See what preeminence our merits gain! My spoil alone his greedy soul delights; My spouse alone must bless his lustful nights: The woman, let him (as he may) enjoy; But what's the quarrel then of Greece to Troy? What to these shores the' assembled nations draws, What calls for vengeance, but a woman's cause? Are fair endowments and a beauteous face Beloved by none but those of Atreus' race? The wife whom choice and passion doth approve, Sure every wise and worthy man will love. Nor did my fair one less distinction claim; Slave as she was, my soul adored the dame. Wrong'd in my love, all proffers I disdain; Deceived for once, I trust not kings again. Ye have my answer, what remains to do Your king, Ulysses, may consult with you. What needs he the defence this arm can make ? Has he not walls no human force can shake? Has he not fenced his guarded navy round With piles, with ramparts, and a trench profound? And will not these (the wonders he has done) Repel the rage of Priam's single son? There was a time ('twas when for Greece I fought) When Hector's prowess no such wonders wrought; He kept the verge of Troy, nor dared to wait Achilles' fury at the Scaan gate: He tried it once, and scarce was saved by Fate. But now those ancient enmities are o'er; The wealth he left for this detested shore: VOL. VI. D (That spreads her conquests o'er a thousand states, And pours her heroes through a hundred gates, Two hundred horsemen and two hundred cars From each wide portal issuing to the wars), Though bribes were heap'd on bribes, in number more Than dust in fields, or sand along the shore; (An ill match'd consort) to Achilles' bed; If Heaven restore me to my realms with life, There, deaf for ever to the martial strife, Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold; |