Then will I mount the brazen dome, and move
The high tribunal of immortal Jove.
The Goddess spoke: the rolling waves unclofe;
Then down the deep the plung'd from whence the rofe, And left him forrowing on the lonely coaft,
In wild refentment for the fair he loft.
In Chryfa's port now fage Ulyffes rode; Beneath the deck the deftin'd victims ftow'd; The fails they furl'd, they lash'd the mast aside, And drop'd their anchors, and the pinnace ty'd. Next on the shore their hecatomb they land,
Chryfeïs last descending on the strand.
Her, thus returning from the furrow'd main,
Ulyffes led to Phœbus' facred fane;
Where at his folemn altar as the maid
He gave to Chryfes, thus the Hero faid.
Hail reverend prieft! to Phoebus' awful dome
A fuppliant I from great Atrides come:
Unranfom'd here receive the spotlefs fair ;
Accept the hecatombs the Greeks prepare;
And may thy God who scatters darts around,
Aton'd by facrifice, defift to wound.
At this, the fire embrac'd the maid again,
So fadly loft, fo lately fought in vain.
Then near the altar of the darting king,
Difpos'd in rank their hecatomb they bring :
With water purify their hands, and take
The facred offering of the falted cake;
While thus with arms devoutly rais'd in air,
And folemn voice, the priest directs his prayer:
*God of the filver bow, thy ear incline,
Whose power incircles Cilla the divine;
Whose facred eye thy Tenedos furveys,
And gilds fair Chryfa with distinguish'd rays!
If, fir'd to vengeance at thy priest's request,
Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest;
Once more attend! avert the wasteful woe,
And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow.
So Chryfes pray'd, Apollo heard his prayer :
And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare;
Between their horns the falted barley threw,
And with their heads to heaven the victims flew:
The limbs they fever from th' inclosing hide;
The thighs, felected to the Gods, divide:
On these, in double cawls involv'd with art,
The choiceft morfels lay from every part.
The priest himself before his altar stands,
And burns the offering with his holy hands,
Pours the black wine, and fees the flames afpire;
The youth with inftruments furround the fire:
The thighs thus facrific'd, and entrails drest,
Th' affistants part, transfix, and roast the rest :
Then spread the tables, the repast prepare,
Each takes his feat, and each receives his fhare.
When now the rage of hunger was repreft,
With pure libations they conclude the feast;
The youths with wine the copious goblets crown'd,
And, pleas'd, dispense the flowing bowls around.
With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends,
The Peans lengthen'd till the fun descends :
The Greeks, reftor'd, the grateful notes prolong'; 620 Apollo liftens, and approves the song.
'Twas night; the chiefs befide their veffel lie,,
Till rofy morn had purpled o'er the sky:
Then launch, and hoift the maft ; indulgent gales,
Supply'd by Phoebus, fill the fwelling fails;
The milk-white canvass bellying as they blow,
The parted ocean foams and roars below:
Above the bounding billows swift they flew,
Till now the Grecian camp appear'd in view.
Far on the beach they haul their bark to land
(The crooked keel divides the yellow fand);
Then part, where stretch'd along the winding bay
The ships and tents in mingled prospect lay.
But raging ftill, amidst his navy fate
The ftern Achilles, stedfast in his hate;
Nor mix'd in combat, nor in council join'd;
But wafting cares lay heavy on his mind :.
In his black thoughts revenge and slaughter roll,
And scenes of blood rife dreadful in his foul.
< Twelve days were past, and now the dawning light The Gods had fummon'd to th' Olympian height:
Jove firft afcending from the watery bowers,
Leads the long order of æthereal powers..
When like the morning mist in early day,
Rofe from the flood the Daughter of the Sea;
And to the feats divine her flight addrest.
There, far apart, and high above the rest,
The Thunderer fat; where old Olympus shrouds
His hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds.
Suppliant the Goddefs stood: one hand she plac'd 650
Beneath his beard, and one his knee embrac'd:
If e'er, O Father of the Gods! she said,
My words could please thee, or my actions aid ;
Some marks of honour on my son bestow,
And pay in glory what in life you owe.
Fame is at least by heavenly promise due
To life so short, and now dishonour'd too.
Avenge this wrong, oh ever juft and wife!
Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rise;
Till the proud king, and all th' Achaian race,
Shall heap with honours him they now disgrace.
Thus Thetis fpoke, but Jove in filence held
The facred councils of his breast conceal'd.
Not fo repuls'd, the Goddess closer preft,
Still grafp'd his knees, and urg'd the dear request :665
O fire of gods and men ! thy suppliant hear;
Refuse, or grant; for what has Jove to fear?
Or, oh! declare, of all the powers above,
Is wretched Thetis least the care of Jove?
She faid, and fighing thus the God replies,
Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted skies?
What haft thou ask'd? Ah why should Jove engage
In foreign contests, and domestic rage,
The Gods complaints, and Juno's fierce alarms,
While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms?
Go, left the haughty partner of my fway
With jealous eyes thy close access survey;
But part in peace, fecure thy prayer is fped:
Witness the facred honours of our head,
The nod that ratifies the will divine,
The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable fign;
This feals thy fuit, and this fufills thy vows-
He spoke, and awful bends his fable brows;
Shakes his ambrofial curls, and gives the nod;
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the God:
High heaven with trembling the dread signal took,
And all Olympus to the centre fhook.
Swift to the feas profound the Goddess flies,
Jove to his ftarry mansion in the skies.
The fhining fynod of th' immortals wait
The coming God, and from their thrones of ftate
Arifing filent, wrapt in holy fear,
Before the majesty of heaven appear,
All, but the God's imperious queen alone :
Trembling they ftand, while Jove affumes the throne,
Late had the view'd the filver-footed dame,
And all her paffions kindled into flame.
Say, artful
manager of heaven (fhe cries)
Who now partakes the fecrets of the skies?
Thy Juno knows not the decrees of fate,
In vain the partner of imperial state.
What favourite Goddess then those cares divides,
Which Jove in prudence from his confort hides?
To this the Thunderer: Seek not thou to find
The facred counfels of almighty mind:
Involv'd in darkness lies the great decree,
Nor can the depths of fate be pierc'd by thee.
What fits thy knowledge, thou the first shalt know
The first of Gods above and men below;
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