Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in air,
Thus to the gods preferr'd a father's prayer.

O Thou whose glory fills th’ethereal throne,
And all ye deathless pow'rs, protect my son!
Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown,
To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown;
Against his country's foe the war to wage,
And rise the Hector of the future age!
So when, triumphant from successful toils,
Of heroes slain he bears the reeking spoils,
Whole hosts may hail him with deserv'd acclaim,
And say, This chief transcends his father's fame;
While, pleas'd amidst the general shouts of Troy,
His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy.
He spoke; and, fondly gazing on her charms,
Restor❜d the pleasing burden to her arms:
Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid,
Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey'd.
The troubled pleasure soon chastis'd by fear,
She mingled with the smile a tender tear.

*

* * * * * *

*

*

The glorious chief resumes

His tow'ry helmet, black with shading plumes;
His princess parts with a prophetic sigh,
Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye,

That

That stream'd at every look; then moving slow, Sought her own palace, and indulg'd her woe. POPE'S HOMer.

Awful Description of the Deities engaged in the
Combat.

BUT when the pow'rs descending swell'd the fight,
Then tumult rose; fierce rage and pale affright
Varied each face; then discord sounds alarms,
Earth echoes, and the nations rush to arms.
Now thro' the trembling shores Minerva calls,
And now she thunders from the Grecian walls.
Mars hov'ring o'er his Troy, his terror shrouds
In gloomy tempests, and a night of clouds:
Now thro' each Trojan heart he fury pours
With voice divine from Ilion's topmost tow'rs;
Now shouts to Simois, from her beauteous hill;
The mountains shook, the rapid stream stood still;
Above, the sire of gods his thunder rolls,
And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles.
Beneath, stern Neptune shakes the solid ground,
The forests wave, the mountains nod around:
Thro' all their summits tremble Ida's woods,
And from their sources boil her hundred floods.

Troy's

Troy's turrets totter on the rocking plain;
And the toss'd navies beat the heaving main,
Deep in the dismal regions of the dead,

Th' infernal monarch rear'd his horrid head;
Leap'd from his throne, lest Neptune's arm should

lay

His dark dominions open to the day,

And pour in light on Pluto's drear abodes,

Abhorr'd by men, and dreadful e'en to gods.

POPE'S HOMER.

Ulysses.

When Ulysses rose, in thought profound,

His modest eyes he fix'd upon the ground,

As one unskill'd or dumb, he seem'd to stand,

Nor rais'd his head, nor stretch'd his sceptred

hand;

But, when he speaks, what elocution flows;

Soft as the fleeces of descending snows,
The copious accents fall, with easy art;
Melting they fall, and sink into the heart!

Wond'ring we hear, and fix'd in deep surprize,

Our ears refute the censure of our eyes.

POPE'S HOMER.

Pallas

Pallas arming.

Pallas disrobes; her radiant veil unty'd,
With flow'rs adorn'd, with art diversify'd,
(The labor'd veil her heav'nly fingers wove)
Flows on the pavement of the court of Jove.
Now heav'n's dread arms her mighty limbs invest,
Jove's cuirass blazes on her ample breast;
Deck'd in sad triumph for the mournful field,
O'er her broad shoulders hangs her horrid shield,
Dire, black, tremendous! round the margin roll'd,
A fringe of serpents hissing guards the gold:
Here all the terrors of grim war appear,
Here rages force, here tremble flight and fear,
Here storm'd contention, and here fury frown'd;
And the dire orb portentous Gorgon crown'd.
The massy golden helm she next assumes,
That dreadful nods with four o'er-shading plumes;
So vast the broad circumference contains,
A hundred armies on a hundred plains.
The goddess thus th' imperial car ascends;
Shook by her arm the mighty jav'lin bends,
Pond'rous and huge; that when her fury burns,
Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns.
Swift at the scourge th' ethereal coursers fly,
While the smooth chariot cuts the liquid sky.

Heav'n's gates spontaneous open to the pow'rs,

Heav'n's golden gates, kept by the winged hours.

POPE'S HOMER.

Ajax.

Now Ajax brac'd his dazzling armor on;
Sheath'd in bright steel the giant warrior shone;
He moves to combat with majestic pace;
So stalks in arms the grizly god of Thrace,
When Jove to punish faithless men prepares,
And gives whole nations to the waste of wars.
Thus march'd the chief, tremendous as a god;
Grimly he smil'd; earth trembled as he strode;
His massy jav'lin quivʼring in his haud,
He stood, the bulwark of the Grecian band.
Through ev'ry Argive heart true transport ran;
All Troy stood trembling at the mighty man.
Ev'n Hector paus'd; and with new doubt oppress'd
Felt his great heart suspended in his breast.

POPE'S HOMER,