He pray'd, and Phœbus hearing, urg'd his flight, With fury kindled, from Olympus' height; His quiver o'er his ample shoulders threw ;
His bow twang'd, and his arrows rattled as they
Black as a stormy night, he rang'd around
The tents, and compafs'd the devoted ground.
Then with full force his deadly bow he bent,
And feather'd fates among the mules and fump
ters fent:
Th' effay of rage, on faithful dogs the next;
And last, in human hearts his arrows fix'd.
The God nine days the Greeks at rovers kill'd,
Nine days the camp with fun'ral fires was fill'd;
The tenth, Achilles, by the Queen's command,
Who bears heav'ns awful fceptre in her hand,
A council fummon'd: for the Goddess griev'd
Her favour'd host should perish unreliev’d.
The kings affembled, foon their chief inclofe;
Then from his feat the Goddess-born arofe,
And thus undaunted fpoke: What now remains,
But that once more we tempt the watry plains,
And wand'ring homeward, feek our safety hence;
In flight at leaft, if we can find defence?
Such woes at once encompafs us about,
The plague within the camp, the fword without.
Confult, O king, the prophets of th' event:
And whence thefe ills, and what the Gods intent,
Let them by dreams explore; for dreams from
Jove are fent.
What want of offer'd victims, what offence
In fact committed could the Sun incenfe,
To deal his deadly fhafts? What may remove
His fettled hate, and reconcile his love?
That he may look propitious on our toils;
And hungry graves no more be glutted with our fpoils.
Thus to the king of men the hero fpoke, Then Calchas the defir'd occafion took:
Calchas the facred feer, who had in view
Things present and the past; and things to come foreknew.
Supreme of augurs, who, by Phœbus taught,
The Grecian pow'rs to Troy's deftruction brought.
Skill'd in the fecret caufes of their woes,
The reverend prieft in graceful act arofe:
And thus bespoke Pelides: Care of Jove,
Favour'd of all th' immortal Pow'rs above;
E e
Wouldst thou the feeds deep fown of mischief
And why, provok'd Apollo bends his bow?
Plight first thy faith, inviolably true,
To fave me from those ills, that may enfue.
For I fhall tell ungrateful truths, to those Whose boundless pow'rs of life and death dispose. And fov'reigns, ever jealous of their state, Forgive not those whom once they mark for hate; Ev'n tho th' offence they feemingly digeft, Revenge, like embers rak'd, within their breast, Burfts forth in flames; whofe unrefifted pow'r Will feize th' unwary wretch, and foon devour. Such, and no less is he, on whom depends The fum of things; and whom my tongue of force offends.
Secure me then from his foreseen intent,
That what his wrath may doom, thy valour may prevent.
To this the ftern Achilles made reply:
Be bold; and on my plighted faith rely,
To speak what Phoebus has infpir'd thy foul
For common good; and fpeak without controul.
His Godhead I invoke, by him I swear,
my noftrils draw this vital air,
None shall presume to violate those bands;
Or touch thy person with unhallow'd hands:
Ev'n not the king of men that all commands.
At this, refuming heart, the prophet said:
Nor hecatomb unflain, nor vows unpaid,
On Greeks, accurs'd, this dire contagion bring,
Or call for vengeance from the bowyer King;
But he the tyrant, whom none dares resist,
Affronts the Godhead in his injur'd priest:
He keeps the damfel captive in his chain,
And presents are refus'd, and pray'rs preferr❜d in
For this th' avenging Pow'r employs his darts;
And empties all his quiver in our hearts;
Thus will perfift, relentless in his ire,
Till the fair flave be render'd to her fire:
And ranfom-free reftor'd to his abode,
With facrifice to reconcile the God:
Then he, perhaps, atton'd by pray'r, may cease
His vengeance juftly vow'd, and give the peace.
Thus having faid, he fate: thus answer'd then, Upstarting from his throne, the king of men, His breast with fury fill'd, his eyes with fire; Which rolling round, he shot in sparkles on the
Augur of ill, whose tongue was never found
Without a priestly curfe, or boding found;
For not one blefs'd event foretold to me
Pafs'd thro that mouth, or pafs'd unwillingly.
And now thou doft with lies the throne invade,
By practice harden'd in thy fland'ring trade.
Obtending heav'n, for whate'er ills befal;
And fputt'ring under fpecious names thy gall.
Now Phoebus is provok'd, his rites and laws
Are in his priest profan'd, and I the caufe:
Since I detain a flave, my fov'reign prize;
And facred gold, your idol-god, despise.
I love her well: and well her merits claim,
To ftand preferr'd before my Grecian dame:
Not Clytemnestra's felf in beauty's bloom
More charm'd, or better ply'd the various loom:
Mine is the maid; and brought in happy hour, With every houfhold-grace adorn'd, to blefs my nuptial bow'r.
Yet shall she be reftor'd; fince public good
For private int'reft ought not to be withstood,
To fave th' effufion of my people's blood.
But right requires, if I refign my own,
I should not fuffer for your fakes alone;
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