Part 74 (1/2)
”Ah think, thou favour'd of the powers divine!(295) Think of thy father's age, and pity e trace, Those silver hairs, that venerable face; His tre limbs, his helpless person, see!
In all my equal, but in misery!
Yet now, perhaps, some turn of human fate Expels him helpless from his peaceful state; Think, fro protection with a feeble cry
Yet still one colad his eyes, And, hearing, still may hope a better day May send hiriefs, no hopes remain, The best, the bravest, of my sons are slain!
Yet what a race! ere Greece to Ilion ca dame: Nineteen one mother bore--Dead, all are dead!
How oft, alas! has wretched Priam bled!
Still one was left their loss to recompense; His father's hope, his country's last defence
Hie has slain! beneath thy steel, Unhappy in his country's cause he fell!
”For hih hostile camps I bent ifts proportion'd to thy wrath I bear; O hear the wretched, and the Gods revere!
”Think of thy father, and this face behold!
See hih not so wretched: there he yields to nto ee and ruin of my realm and race; Suppliant my children'swith their gore!”
These words soft pity in the chief inspire, Touch'd with the dear remembrance of his sire
Then with his hand (as prostrate still he lay) The old ently turn'd away
Now each by turns indulged the gush of woe; And now the ently bending o'er; A father one, and one a son deplore: But great Achilles different passions rend, And now his sire he mourns, and now his friend
The infectious softness through the heroes ran; One universal solean; They bore as heroes, but they felt aswoes, Froh throne divine Achilles rose; The reverend monarch by the hand he raised; On his white beard and foran With words to soothe the uish hast thou known, Unhappy prince! thus guardless and alone Two pass through foes, and thus undaunted face The man whose fury has destroy'd thy race!
Heaven sure has arth proportion'd to the woes you feel
Rise, then: let reason ate your care: To mourn avails not: man is born to bear
Such is, alas! the Gods' severe decree: They, only they are blest, and only free
Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood, The source of evil one, and one of good; Fros to these, to those distributes ill; To les both: the wretch decreed To taste the bad unre famine driven, He wanders, outcast both of earth and heaven
The happiest taste not happiness sincere; But find the cordial draught is dash'd with care
Who more than Peleus shone in wealth and power What stars concurring bless'd his natal hour!
A realiven; Graced by the Gods with all the gifts of heaven
One evil yet o'ertakes his latest day: No race succeeding to imperial sway; An only son; and he, alas! ordain'd To fall untin land
See hie, to live the curse of thine!
Thou too, old man, hast happier days beheld; In riches once, in children once excell'd; Extended Phrygia own'd thy an, And all fair Lesbos' blissful seats contain, And all wide hellespont's unmeasured main
But since the God his hand has pleased to turn, And fill thy measure from his bitter urn, What sees the sun, but hapless heroes' falls?
War, and the blood of men, surround thy walls!
Whatsorrows o'er the dead; Thou canst not call hiian shore, But thou, alas! : ”O favour'd of the skies!
Here let row to earth! since Hector lies On the bare beach deprived of obsequies
O give ifts: I ask no more
Thou, as thou may'st, these boundless stores enjoy; Safe may'st thou sail, and turn thy wrath froive A weak old ht and live!”
”Move er sparkled in his eyes,) Nor seek by tears my steady soul to bend: To yield thy Hector I myself intend: For know, frohter, silver-footed dame,) Nor comest thou but by heaven; nor coe not thy own: No huates unbarr'd, Nor could the boldest of our youth have dared To pass our outworks, or elude the guard