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He said no more; but crown'd a bowl, unbid : The laughing nectar overlook'd the lid : Then put it to her hand ; and thus pursu'd, This cursed quarrel be no more renew'd. Be, as becomes a wife, obedient still ; Tho griev'd, yet fubject to her husband's will. I would not see you beaten ; yet afraid Of Jove's superior force, I dare not aid. Too well I know him, since 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 heald my

wound. At Vulcan's homely mirth his mother smild, And smiling took the cup the clown had filld. 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 so deft at his new ministry. The feast continu'd till declining light: They drank, they laugh’d, they lov'd, and then

'twas night.

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

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HecToR AND ANDROMACHE.

From the Sixth Book of the ILIA D.

THE ARGUMENT.

Hector, returning from the field of battle, to visit

Helen bis sister-in-law, and his brother Paris, who had fought unsuccessfully hand to hand with Menelaus, from thence goes to his own palace to Jee his wife Andromache, and his infant Jon Astyanax. The description of that interview is the subject of this translation.

TH

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HUS having said, brave Hector went to see

His virtuous wife, the fair Andromache. He found her not at home; for she was gone, Attended by her maid and infant son, To climb the steepy tow'r of Ilion: From whence, with heavy heart, she might survey The bloody business of the dreadful day. Her mournful eyes she cast around the plain, And sought the lord of her desires in vain.

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

way

she took, and whither the was gone; VOL. IV.

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If to the court, or, with his mother's train,
In long procession to Minerva's fane?
The servants answer'd, Neither to the court,
Where Priam's sons and daughters did resort,
Nor to the temple was the gone, to move
With prayers the blue-ey'd progeny of Jove;
But more solicitous for him alone,
Than all their safety, to the tow'r was gone,
There to survey the labours of the field,
Where the Greeks conquer, and the Trojans yield;
Swiftly the 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 pass’d thro 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 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 passion 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.

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Scamandrius was his name, which Hector

gave,
From that fair flood which Ilion's wall did lave:
But him Astyanax the Trojans call,
From his great father, who defends the wall.

Hector beheld him with a silent smile ;
His tender wife stood weeping by the while:
Press'd in her own, his warlike hand she took,
Then figh’d, and thus prophetically spoke.

Thy dauntless heart (which I forefee too late)
Too daring man, will urge thee to thy fate :
Nor dost 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 seek thy life, and, in unequal fight
With

many, will oppress thy single might:
Better it were for miserable 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 stern Achilles all of life bereft.
Then when the walls of Thebes he overthrew,
His fatal hand my royal father dlew;

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