[hate,

On the green sod the friendly bowls were crown'd,
And hasty banquets pil'd upon the ground:
Around the fire they talk; one shows his scars,
One tells what chance first led him to the wars!
Their stories o'er the tedious night prevail,
And the mute circle listens to the tale,
They own they fought, but swear they ne'er could
Deny their guilt, and lay the blame on Fate;
Their love revives, to make them guiltier grow,
A short-liv'd blessing, but to heighten woe.
When to Petreius first the news was told,
The jealous general thought his legions sold.
Swift with the guards, his headstrong fury drew,
From out his camp he drives the hostile crew;
Cuts clasping friends asunder with his sword,
And stains with blood each hospitable board.
Then thus his wrath breaks out, "O! lost to
fame!

Oh! false to Pompey, and the Roman name!
Can ye not conquer, ye degenerate bands?
Oh! die at least; 'tis all that Rome demands.
What! will ye own, while ye can wield the sword,
A rebel standard, and usurping lord?

Shall he be sued to take you into place

Amongst his slaves, and grant you equal grace? What? shall my life be begg'd? inglorious thought?

And life abhorr'd, on such conditions bought!
The toils we bear, my friends, are not for life,
Too mean a prize in such a dreadful strife;

But

peace

would lead to servitude and shame, A fair amusement, and a specious name. Never had man explor'd the iron ore,

Mark'd out the trench, or rais'd the lofty tower,
Ne'er had the steed in harness sought the plain,
Or fleets encounter'd on th' unstable main;
Were life, were breath, with fame to be compar'd
Or peace to glorious liberty preferr❜d.

By guilty oaths the hostile army bound,

Holds fast its impious faith, and stands its ground;
Are you perfidious, who espouse the laws,
And traitors only in a righteous cause?

Oh shame! in vain through nations far and wide,

Thou call'st the crowding monarchs to thy side,
Fall'n Pompey! while thy legions here betray
Thy cheap-bought life, and treat thy fame away."
He ended fierce. The soldier's rage returns,

His blood flies upward, and his bosom burns.
So, haply tam'd, the tiger bears his bands,
Less grimly growls, and licks his keeper's hands;
But if by chance he tastes forbidden gore,
He yells amain, and makes his dungeon roar.
He glares, he foams, he aims a desperate bound,
And his pale master flies the dangerous ground.
Now deeds are done, which man might charge
aright

On stubborn Fate, or undiscerning Night,
Had not their guilt the lawless soldiers known,
And made the whole malignity their own.

The beds, the plenteous tables, float with gore, And breasts are stabb'd, that were embrac'd

before:

Pity awhile their hands from slaughter kept; Inward they groan'd, and, as they drew, they

wept;

But every blow their wavering rage assures,

In murder hardens, and to blood inures.

Crowds charge on crowds, nor friends their friends descry,

But sires by sons, and sons by fathers die.
Black, monstrous rage! each, with victorious cries,
Drags his slain friend before the general's eyes,
Exults in guilt, that throws the only shame
On Pompey's cause, and blots the Roman name.

THE FIRST BOOK OF HOMER'S ILIAD.

THE DEDICATION.

WHEN I first entered upon this translation, I was ambitious of dedicating it to the Earl of Halifax ; but being prevented from doing myself that honour, by the unspeakable loss which our country hath sustained in the death of that extraordinary person, I hope I shall not be blamed for presuming to make a dedication of it to his memory. The greatness of his name will justify a practice altogether uncommon, and may gain favour towards a work, which (if it had deserved his patronage) is perhaps the only one inscribed to his lordship, that will escape being rewarded by him.

I might have one advantage from such a dedication, that nothing I could say in it would be suspected of flattery. Besides that the world would take a pleasure in hearing those things said of this great man, now he is dead, which he himself would have been offended at when living. But though I am sensible, so amiable and exalted a character would be very acceptable to the public, were I able to draw it in its full extent; I should

be censured, very deservedly, should I venture upon an undertaking, to which I am by no means equal.

His consummate knowledge in all kinds of business, his winning eloquence in public assemblies, his active zeal for the good of his country, and the share he had in conveying the supreme power to an illustrious family famous for being friends to mankind, are subjects easy to be enlarged upon, but incapable of being exhausted. The nature of the following performance more directly leads me to lament the misfortune, which hath befallen the learned world, by the death of so generous and universal a patron.

He rested not in a barren admiration of the polite arts, wherein he himself was so great a master; but was acted by that humanity they naturally inspire which gave rise to many excellent writers, who have cast a light upon the age in which he lived, and will distinguish it to posterity. It is well known, that very few celebrated pieces have been published for several years, but what were either promoted by his encouragement, or supported by his approbation, or recompensed by his bounty. And if the succession of men, who excel in most of the refined arts, should not continue; though some may impute it to a decay of genius in our countrymen; those who are unacquainted with his lordship's character, will know more justly how to account for it.