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Sprung the ftern king of men; and breathing death
Where in firm battle, Trojans band by band
Embody'd food, pursued his dreadful way;-
His hoft his step attends; now glows the war,
Horfe treads on horse, and man encountering man,
Swells the dire field with death, the plunging fteeds
Beat the firm glebes; thick duft in rising clouds
Darkens the sky: Indignant o'er the plain.
Atrides ftalks; death every step attends.
As when, in fome huge foreft, fudden flames
Rage dreadful, when rough winds assist the blaze,,
From tree to tree the fiery torrent rolls,
And the vaft foreft finks with all its groves
Beneath the burning deluge; fo whole hofts
Yield to Atrides' arm: car against car
Rush'd rattling o'er the field, and through the ranks-
Unguided broke; while breathlefs on the ground.
Lay the pale charioteers: In death deform'd;
To their chafte brides fad fpectacles of woe,
Now only grateful to the fowls of air.
Mean time, the care of Jove, great Hector ftood
Secure in scenes of death, in ftorms of darts,
In flaughter and alarms, in duft and blood.
Still Agamemnon rufhing o'er the field,
Leads his bold bands: whole hofts before him fly, Now Ilus' tomb they pafs, now urge their way Clofe by the fig-tree fhade: with shouts the king
Purfues the foe inceffant, duft and blood,
Blood mixed with duft, diftains his murderous hands.
As when a lion in the gloom of night.
Invades an herd of beeves, o'er all the plains
Trembling they scatter: furious on the prey
The generous savage flies, and with fierce joy
Seizes the last: his hungry foaming jaws
Churn the black blood, and rend the panting prey.
Thus fled the foe, Atrides thus pursued,
And ftill the hindmoft flew: they from their cars
Fell headlong, for his javelin, wild for blood,
Rag'd terribly; and now proud Troy had fal'n,
But the dread Sire of men and Gods defcends
Terrific from his heavens, his vengeful hand
Ten thousand thunders grafps: on Ida's heights
He takes his ftand, it shakes with all its groves
Beneath the God;, the God fufpends the war.
wondrous art, that grace to fhadows gives! By whofe command the lovely phantom lives!* Smiles with her fmiles! the mimic eye inftillsA real frame! the fancy'd lightning kills! Thus mirrors catch the love-inspiring face, And the new charmer grace returns for grace. Hence fhall thy beauties, when no more appears Their fair poffeffor, fhine a thousand years:
By age uninjur'd, future times adorn,
And warm the hearts of millions yet unborn,
Who, gazing on the portrait with a sigh,
Shall grieve fuch perfect charms could ever die :
How would they grieve, if to such beauties join'd
The paint could fhew the wonders of thy mind?
O! virgin, born th' admiring world to grace!
Tranfmit thy excellence to latest days;
Yield to thy lover's vows! and then shall rise
A race of beauties conquering with thine eyes:
Who reigning in thy charms from death fhall fave
That lovely form, and triumph o'er the grave.
Thus when through age the rose-tree's charms decay, When all her fading beauties die away;
A blooming offspring fills the parent's place
With equal fragrance, and with equal grace.
But ah! how fhort a date on earth is given
To the most lovely workmanship of heaven?
Too foon that cheek must every charm refign,
And thofe love-darting eyes forget to shine!
While thousands, weeping round, with fighs furvey
What once was you now only beauteous clay !
Ev'n from the canvas fhall thy image fade,
And thou re-perish in thy perish'd shade:
Then may this verfe to future ages show
One perfect beauty- -fuch as thou art now!
May it the graces of thy foul difplay,
Till this world finks, and suns themselves decay;
Fantaftic power! * What rage thy darts inspire,
When too much beauty kindles too much fire?
Thofe darts, to jealous rage ftern Herod drove,
It was a crime, but crime of too much love!
Yet if condemn'd he falls---with pitying eyes
Behold his injur'd Mariamne rife!
No fancy'd tale! our opening fcenes difclofe
Hiftoric truth, and fwell with real woes.
Awful in virtuous grief the queen appears,
And strong the eloquence of royal tears;
By woes ennobled, with majestic pace,
She meets misfortune, glorious in disgrace!
Small is the praife of beauty, when it flies
Fair honour's laws, at best but lovely vice;
Charms it like Venus with celeftial air?
Ev'n Venus is but fcandaloufly fair;
But when ftrict honour with fair features joins,
Like heat and light, at once it warms and fhines.
†Then let her fate your kind attention raise,
Whofe perfect charms were but her second praife
Beauty and virtue your protection claim,
Give tears to beauty, give to virtue fame.
Then let her fate your juft attention raife, Whofe perfect graces were but fecond praise.