Curb that impetuous tongue, before too late
The Gods behold, and tremble at thy fate.
Pitying, but daring not, in thy defence,
To lift a hand against Omnipotence.

This heard, th' imperious Queen fate mute with fear:

Nor further durft incenfe the gloomy Thunderer. Silence was in the court at this rebuke:

Nor could the Gods abafh'd, fuftain their fov'reign's look.

The limping Smith obferv'd the fadden'd feast, And hopping here and there, (himself a jest) Put in his word, that neither might offend; To Jove obfequious, yet his mother's friend. What end in heav'n will be of civil war, If Gods of pleasure will for mortals jar? Such difcord but difturbs our jovial feast; One grain of bad, embitters all the best. Mother, tho wife yourself, my counsel weigh; 'Tis much unfafe my fire to difobey.

Not only you provoke him to your cost,

But mirth is marr'd, and the good chear is loft.
Tempt not his heavy hand; for he has pow'r
To throw you headlong, from his heav'nly tow'r.
But one fubmiffive word, which
Will make him in good humour with us all.

you

let fall,

He faid no more; but crown'd a bowl, unbid: The laughing nectar overlook'd the lid: Then put it to her hand; and thus purfu'd, This curfed quarrel be no more renew'd. Be, as becomes a wife, obedient ftill; Tho griev'd, yet subject to her husband's will. I would not see you beaten; yet afraid Of Jove's fuperior force, I dare not aid. Too well I know him, fince that hapless hour When I, and all the Gods employ'd our pow'r To break your bonds: me by the heel he drew, And o'er heav'n's battlements with fury threw. All day I fell; my flight at morn begun, And ended not but with the setting fun. Pitch'd on my head, at length the Lemnian ground Receiv'd my batter'd skull, the Sinthians heal'd my wound.

At Vulcan's homely mirth his mother smil'd, And smiling took the cup the clown had fill'd. The reconciler-bowl went round the board, Which empty'd, the rude fkinker ftill reftor'd. Loud fits of laughter feiz'd the guests, to fee The limping God fo deft at his new ministry. The feaft continu'd till declining light:

They drank, they laugh'd, they lov'd, and then 'twas night.

Nor wanted tuneful harp, nor vocal quire;
The Mufes fung; Apollo touch'd the lyre.
Drunken at last, and drowsy they depart,
Each to his houfe; adorn'd with labour'd art
Of the lame architect: the thund'ring God
Ev'n he withdrew to reft, and had his load.
His swimming head to needful fleep apply'd ;
And Juno lay unheeded by his fide.

XFX
XX

The

HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.

From the Sixth Book of the ILIA D.

THE ARGUMENT.

Hector, returning from the field of battle, to vifit Helen his fifter-in-law, and his brother Paris, who had fought unfuccessfully hand to hand with Menelaus, from thence goes to his own palace to Jee his wife Andromache, and his infant fon Aftyanax. The defcription of that interview is the fubject of this tranflation.

HUS having faid, brave Hector went to fee

TH

His virtuous wife, the fair Andromache. He found her not at home; for she was gone, Attended by her maid and infant fon,

To climb the fteepy tow'r of Ilion:

From whence, with heavy heart, fhe might furvey
The bloody bufinefs of the dreadful day.
Her mournful eyes fhe caft around the plain,
And fought the lord of her defires in vain.

But he, who thought his peopled palace bare, When fhe, his only comfort, was not there, Stood in the gate, and afk'd of ev'ry one,

Which way she took, and whither fhe was gone; G g

VOL. IV.

If to the court, or, with his mother's train,
In long proceffion to Minerva's fane?
The fervants anfwer'd, Neither to the court,
Where Priam's fons and daughters did refort,
Nor to the temple was fhe gone, to move
With prayers the blue-ey'd progeny of Jove;
But more folicitous for him alone,

Than all their fafety, to the tow'r was gone,
There to furvey the labours of the field,
Where the Greeks conquer, and the Trojans yield;
Swiftly fhe pass'd, with fear and fury wild;
The nurse went lagging after with the child.

This heard, the noble Hector made no stay; Th' admiring throng divide, to give him way; He pafs'd thro every ftreet, by which he came, And at the gate he met the mournful dame.

His wife beheld him, and with eager pace Flew to his arms, to meet a dear embrace:

His wife, who brought in dow'r Cilicia's crown,

And, in herself, a greater dow'r alone:

Aetion's heir, who on the woody plain

Of Hippoplacus did in Thebe reign.

Breathless she flew, with joy and paffion wild; The nurse came lagging after with her child. The royal babe upon her breast was laid;

Who, like the morning ftar, his beams difplay'd.