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But thou, O father, in my fon's defence,
Affume thy pow'r, affert thy providence.
Let Troy prevail, till Greece th' affront has paid
With doubled honours; and redeem'd his aid.

She ceas'd, but the confid'ring God was mute;
Till the, refolv'd to win, renew'd her fute:
Nor loos'd her hold, but forc'd him to reply,
Or grant me my petition, or deny;
Jove cannot fear: then tell me to my face
That I, of all the Gods, am least in grace.
This I can bear. The Cloud-compeller mourn'd,
And fighing first, this answer he return'd.

Know'ft thou what clamours will disturb my reign,
What my ftunn'd ears from Juno must sustain ?
In council fhe gives licence to her tongue,

Loquacious, brawling, ever in the wrong.
And now the will my partial pow'r upbraid,
If, alienate from Greece, I give the Trojans aid.
But thou depart, and fhun her jealous fight,
The care be mine, to do Pelides right.
Go then, and on the faith of jove rely:
When nodding to thy fute, he bows the sky.
This ratifies th' irrevocable doom:

The fign ordain'd, that what I will shall come:
The ftamp of heav'n, and feal of fate. He faid,
And fhook the facred honours of his head.
With terror trembled heav'n's fubfiding hill:
And from his fhaken curls ambrofial dews diftil,
The Goddess goes exulting from his fight,

And feeks the feas profound; and leaves the realms of
He moves into his hall: the Pow'rs refort, [light,
Each from his house to fill the fovereign's court.
Nor waiting fummons, nor expecting stood;
But met with reverence, and receiv'd the God.
He mounts the throne; and Juno took her place:
But fullen difcontent fate low'ring on her face.

With jealous eyes, at diftance fhe had feen,
Whifp'ring with Jove, the filver-footed Queen;
Then, impotent of tongue (her filence broke)
Thus turbulent in rattling tone fhe spoke.

Author of ills, and clofe contriver Jove,
Which of thy dames, what prostitute of love,
Has held thy ear fo long, and begg'd fo hard,
For fome old fervice done, fome new reward?
Apart you talk'd, for that's your special care,
The confort never muft the council fhare.
One gracious word is for a wife too much;
Such is a marriage-vow, and Jove's own faith is fuch.
Then thus the Sire of Gods, and men below,
What I have hidden, hope not thou to know.
Ev'n Goddeffes are women: and no wife
Has pow'r to regulate her hufband's life:
Counsel fhe may; and I will give thy ear
The knowledge firft, of what is fit to hear.
What I tranfact with others, or alone,

Beware to learn; nor prefs too near the throne.
To whom the Goddess with the charming eyes,
What haft thou faid, O tyrant of the skies!
When did I fearch the fecrets of thy reign,
Tho' privileg'd to know, but privileg'd in vain ?
But well thou do'ft, to hide from common fight
Thy close intrigues, too bad to bear the light.
Nor doubt I, but the filver-footed dame,
Tripping from fea, on fuch an errand came,
To grace her iffue, at the Grecians coft,
And for one peevish man deftroy an host...
To whom the Thund'rer made this ftern reply;
My houshold curfe, my lawful plague, the fpy
Of Jove's defigns, his other fquinting eye;
Why this vain prying, and for what avail?
Jove will be mafter still, and Juno fail.

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Should thy fufpicious thoughts divine aright,
Thou but becom'ft more odious to my fight,
For this attempt: uneafy life to me,

Still watch'd, and importun'd, but worfe for thee.
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 incense the gloomy Thunderer. Silence was in the court at this rebuke:

Nor could the Gods abash'd, sustain their fov'reign's look.
The limping Smith obferv'd the fadden'd feaft,'
And hopping here and there, (himself a jeft)
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 feaft;
One grain of bad, embitters all the beft.
Mother, tho' wife yourself, my counsel' weigh;
'Tis much unfafe my fire to difobey.
Not only you provoke him to your coft,
But mirth is marr'd, and the good chear is loff.
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 you let fall,
Will make him in good humour with us all.
He said no more; but crown'd a bowl, unbida'
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 fubject to her husband's will.
I would not fee you beaten; yet afraid
Of Jove's superior 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 fetting fun.

Pitch'd on my head, at length the Lemman ground
Receiv'd my batter'd fkull, 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 restor❜d.
Loud fits of laughter feiz'd the guefts, 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 laft, and drowfy 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 fwimming head to needful fleep apply'd ;
And Juno lay unheeded by his fide;

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From the Sixth Book of the ILTAD


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

THis virtuous wife, the fair Andromache.

HUS having said, brave Hector went to fee

He found her not at home; for fhe was gone,
Attended by her maid and infant ion,
To climb the steepy 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 the, his only comfort, was not there,
Stood in the gate, and afk'd of ev'ry 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 anfwer'd, Neither to the court,
Where Priam's fons and daughters did resort,
Nor to the temple was the gone, to move
With prayers the blue-ey'd progeny of Jove;



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