The limping Smith obferv'd the fadden'd'feaft,
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 heaven will be of civil war,
If Gods of pleasure will for mortals jar?
Such difcord but difturbs our jovial feaft;
One grain of bad, embitters all the best.
Mother, though 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 lost.
Tempt not his heavy hand; for he has
power
To throw you headlong, from his heavenly tower.
But one fubmiffive word, which you let fall,
Will make him in good-humour with us all.
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 purfued,
This curfed quarrel be no more renew'd.
Be, as becomes a wife, obedient still;
Though griev'd, yet fubject to her husband's will.
I would not fee 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 power
To break your bonds:
: me by the heel he drew,
And o'er heaven'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
At Vulcan's homely mirth his mother fmil'd, And fmiling took the cup the clown had fill'd. The reconciler-bowl went round the board, Which empty'd, the rude skinker still restor’d. Loud fits of laughter seiz'd the guests, to see The limping God fo deft at his new ministry. The feast continued 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 thundering God
Ev'n he withdrew to reft, and had his load.
His fwimming head to needful fleep apply'd ;
And Juno lay unheeded by his fide,
From the Sixth Book of the ILIAD.
THE ARGUMENT.
Hector, returning from the field of battle, to vifit Helen his fifter-in-law, and his brother Paris, who had fought unsuccessfully hand in hand with Menelaus, from thence goes to his own palace to fee his wife Andromache, and bis infant fon Afyanax. The defcription of that interview is the fubject of this tranflation.
HUS having faid, brave Hector went to fee His virtuous wife, the fair Andromache. He found her not at home; for fhe was gone, Attended by her maid and infant fon,
To climb the fteepy tower of Ifion':
From whence, with heavy heart, fhe might furvey
The bloody bufinefs of the dreadful day.
Her mournful eyes she caft around the plain,
And fought the lord of her defires in vain.
But he, who thought his peopled palace bare,
When the, his only comfort, was not there,
Stood in the gate, and afk'd of every one,
Which way he took, and whither she was gone;
If to the court, or, with his mother's train,
In long proceffion to Minerva's fane?
The fervants answer'd, Neither to the court,
Where Priam's fons and daughters did refort,
Nor to the temple was she gone, to move
With prayers the blue-ey'd progeny of Jove;
But, more folicitous for him alone,
Than all their fafety, to the tower was gone,
There to furvey the labours of the field,
Where the Greeks conquer, and the Trojans yield;
Swiftly the pafs'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 pass'd through every street, 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 dower Cilicia's crown,
And, in herself, a greater dower 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 star, his beams display'd.
Scamandrius was his name, which Hector gave,
From that fair flood which Ilion's wall did lave:
But him Aftyanax the Trojans call,
From his great father, who defends the wall.
Hector beheld him with a filent fmile:
His tender wife ftood weeping by the while:
Prefs'd in her own, his warlike hand she took,
Then figh'd, and thus prophetically spoke :
Thy dauntless heart (which I foresee too late)
Too daring man, will urge thee to thy fate:
Nor doft thou pity, with a parent's mind,
This helpless orphan, whom thou leav'st behind;
Nor me, th' unhappy partner of thy bed;
Who must in triumph by the Greeks be led :
They feek thy life, and, in unequal fight
With many, will opprefs thy fingle might:
Better it were for miferable me
To die, before the fate which I foresee.
For ah! what comfort can the world bequeath
To Hector's widow, after Hector's death?
Eternal forrow and perpetual tears
Began my youth, and will conclude my years :
I have no parents, friends, nor brothers left;
By ftern Achilles all of life bereft.
Then when the walls of Thebes he overthrew,
His fatal hand my royal father flew;
He flew Action, but despoil'd him not;
Nor in his hate the funeral rites forgot;
Arm'd as he was he fent him whole below,
And reverenc'd thus the manes of his foe:
A tomb he rais'd; the mountain nymphs around
Inclos'd with planted elms the holy ground.
My feven brave brothers in one fatal day
To death's dark mansions took the mournful
Slain by the fame Achilles, while they keep
The bellowing oxen and the bleating fheep.
|