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Then, that we should our sacrilege restore,
And re-convey their gods from Argos' shore,
Calchas persuades, till then we urge in vain
The fate of Troy. To measure back the main
They all consent, but to return again,
When reinforc'd with aids of gods and men.
Thus Calchas; then, instead of that, this pile
To Pallas was design'd; to reconcile
Th' offended power, and expiate our guilt;
To this vast height and monstrous stature built,
Lest, through your gates receiv'd, it might re-

new

Some dance, some haul the rope; at last let
down

It enters with a thundering noise the town,
Oh Troy, the seat of gods, in war renown'd!
Three times it struck, as oft the clashing sound
Of arms was heard, yet blinded by the power
Of Fate, we place it in the sacred tower.
Cassandra then foretels th' event, but she
Finds no belief (such was the gods' decree.)
The altars with fresh flowers we crown, and

waste

In feasts that day, which was (alas!) our last.
Now by the revolution of the skies,
Night's sable shadows from the ocean rise,
Which heaven and earth, and the Greek frauds
involv'd.

Your vows to her, and her defence to you.
But if this sacred gift you disesteem,
The cruel plagues (which Heaven divert on
them!)

Shall fall on Priam's state: but ifthe horse
Your walls ascend, assisted by your force,
A league 'gainst Greece all Asia shall contract:
Our sons then suffering what their sires would
act."

Thus by his fraud and our own faith o'er-
A feigned tear destroys us, against whom [come,
Tydides nor Achilles could prevail,
Nor ten years conflict, nor a thousand sail.
This seconded by a most sad portent,
Which credit to the first imposture lent;
Laocoon, Neptune's priest, upon the day
Devoted to that god, a bull did slay.
When two prodigious serpents were descry'd,
Whose circling strokes the sea's smooth face
divide;

Above the deep they raise their scaly crests,
And stem the flood with their erected breasts,
Their winding tails advance and steer their

course,

And 'gainst the shore the breaking billows force.
Now landing, from their brandish'd tongues there

Opprest, surprise, and then their forces join.
'Twas then, when the first sweets of sleep re-

pair

Our bodies spent with toil, our minds with care,
(The gods' best gift) when, bath'd in tears and
blood,
Before my face lamenting Hector stood,
His aspect such when, soil'd with bloody dust,
Dragg'd by the cords which through his feet
were thrust:

By his insulting foe, O how transform'd
How much unlike that Hector, who return'd
Clad in Achilles' spoils: when he among
A thousand ships, (like Jove) his lightning flung!
His horrid beard and knotted tresses stood
Stiff with his gore, and all his wounds ran blood:
Intranc'd I lay, then (weeping) said, "The joy,
The hope and stay of thy declining Troy !
What region held thee, whence so much desir'd,
While slime and blood his sacred wreaths be- Art thou restor❜d to us consum'd and tir'd
smear;
With toils and deaths; but what sad cause con-
Then loudly roars, as when th' enraged bull
founds
From th' altar flies, and from his wounded skull
Shakes the huge axe; the conquering serpents
To cruel Pallas' altar, and their lie
Under her feet, within her shield's extent.
We, in our fears, conclude this fate was sent
Justly on him, who struck the sacred oak
With his accursed lance. Then to invoke
The goddess, and let in the fatal Lorse,
We all consent.

[fly

A spacious breach we make, and Troy's proud
wall.
Built by the gods, by her own hands doth fall;
Thus all their help to their own ruin give,
Some draw with cords and some the monster
drive

With rolls and levers: thus our works it climbs,
Big with our fate; the youth with songs and
rhimes,

came,

A dreadful hiss, and from their eyes a flame.
Amaz'd we fly, directly in a line
Laocoon they pursue, and first entwine
(Each preying upon one) his tender sons;
Then him, who armed to their rescue runs,
They seiz'd, and with entangling foes embrac'd,
His neck twice compassing, and twice his waist :
Their poisonous knots he strives to break and
tear,

The city in secure repose dissolv'd,
When from the admiral's high poop appears
A light, by which the Argive squadron steers
Their silent course to Ilium's well-known shore,
When Sinon (sav'd by the gods' partial power)
Opens the horse, and through the unlockt doors
To the free air the armed freight restores :
Ulysses, Sthenelens, Tisander, slide
Down by a rope, Machaon was their guide;
Atrides, Pyrrhus, Thoas, Athamas,
And Epeus, who the fraud's contriver was:
The gates they seize; the guards, with sleep
and wine

Thy once fair looks, or why appearthose wounds?”
Regardless of my words, he no reply
Returns, but with a dreadful groan doth cry,
"Fly from the flame, O goddess-born, our walls
The Greeks possess, and Troy confounded falls
From all her glories; if it might have stood
By any power, by this right hand it should.
What man could do, by me for Troy was done,
Take here her reliques and her gods, to run
With them thy fate, with them new walls ex-

pect,

Which, tost on seas, thou shall at last erect:"
Then brings old Vesta from her sacred quire,
Her holy wreaths, and her eternal fire.
Meanwhile the walls with doubtful cries resound
From far (for shady coverts did surround
My father's house); approaching still more near
The clash of arms, and voice of men we hear

Rouz'd from my bed, I speedily ascend
The houses' tops, and listening there attend.
As flames roll'd by the winds' conspiring force,
O'er full-ear'd corn, or torrents' raging course
Bears down th' opposing oaks, the fields destroys,
And mocks the plough-man's toil, th' unlook'd-
for noise

From neighbouring hills th' amazed shepherd hears;

Such my surprise, and such their rage appears. First fell thy house, Ucalegon, then thine Deiphobus, Sigæan seas did shine

Bright with Troy's flames; the trumpets dreadful sound

The louder groans of dying men confound;
"Give me my arms," I cry'd, resolv'd to throw
Myself 'mong any that oppos'd the foe:
Rage, anger, and despair at once suggest,
That of all deaths to die in arms was best.
The first I met was Pantheus, Phoebus' priest,
Who, 'scaping with his gods and reliques, fled,
And towards the shore his little grandchild led.
"Pantheus, what hope remains? what force,
what place
Made good?" but sighing, he replies, "Alas!
Trojans we were, and mighty Ilium was;
But the last period, and the fatal hour
Of Troy is come: our glory and our power
Incensed Jove's transfers to Grecian hands;
The foe within the burning town commands;
And (like a smother'd fire) an unseen force
Breaks from the bowels of the fatal horse:
Insulting Sinon flings about the flame,

And thousands more than e'er from Argos came
Possess the gates, the passes, and the streets,
And these the sword o'ertakes, and those it meets.
The guard nor fights, nor flies; their fate so

near

At once suspends their courage and their fear."
Thus by the gods, and by Atrides' words
Inspir'd, I make my way through fire, through
swords,

Where noises, tumults, outcries, and alarms,
I heard. First Iphitus, renown'd for arms,
We meet, who knew us (for the Moon did shine);
Then Ripheus, Hypanis, and Dymas join
Their force, and young Chorobus, Mygdon's
Who, by the love of fair Cassandra, won, [son,
Arriv'd but lately in her father's aid;
Unhappy, whom the threats could not dissuade
Of his prophetic spouse;
Whom when I saw yet daring to maintain
The fight, I said, "Brave spirits (but in vain)
Are you resolv'd to follow one who dares
Tempt all extremes; the state of our affairs
You see the gods have left us, by whose aill
Our empire stood; nor can the flame be staid :
Then let us fall amidst our foes; this one
Relief the vanquish'd have, to hope for none."
Then reinforc'd, as in a stormy night
Wolves urged by their raging appetite
Forage for prey, which their neglected young
With greedy jaws expect, ev'n so among
Foes, fire, and swords, t' assured death we pass,
Darkness our guide, Despair our leader was.
Who can relate that evening's woes and spoils,
Or can his tears proportion to our toils?
The city, which so long had flourish'd, falls;
Death triumphs o'er the houses, temples, walls.

VOL. VIL

Nor only on the Trojans fell this doom,
Their hearts at last the vanquish'd re-assume;
And now the victors fall: on all sides fears,
Groans and pale Death in all her shapes appears :
Androgeus first with his whole troop was cast
Upon us, with civility misplac'd;
Thus greeting us, "You lose by your delay,
Your share both of the honour and the prey;
Others the spoils of burning Troy convey
Back to those ships which you but now forsake."
We making no return, his sad mistake
Too late he finds: as when an unseen snake
A traveller's unwary foot hath prest,
Who trembling starts when the snake's azure
Swoln with his rising anger, he espies, [crest,
So from our view surpriz'd Androgeus flies.
But here an easy victory we meet : [fect.
Fear binds their hands, and ignorance their
Whilst fortune our first enterprize did aid,
Encourag'd with success, Chorœbus said,
"O friends we now by better Fates are led,
And the fair path they lead us, let us tread.
First change your arms, and their distinctions
The same, in foes, deceit and virtue are."[bear;
Then of his arms Androgeus he divests,
His sword, his shield he takes, and plumed crests,
Then Ripheus, Dymas, and the rest, all glad
Of the occasion, in fresh spoils are clad.
Thus mixt with Greeks, as if their fortune still
Follow'd their swords, we fight, pursue, and kill.
Some re-ascend the horse, and he whose sides
Let forth the valiant, now the coward hides.
Some to their safer guard, their ships, retire;
But vain's that hope, 'gainst which the gods con-
Behold the royal virgin, the divine [spire:
Cassandra, from Minerva's fatal shrine [vain,
Dragg'd by the hair, casting towards heaven, in
Her eyes; for cords her tender hands did strain;
Chorobus, at the spectacle enrag'd
Flies in amidst the foes: we thus engag'd,
To second him, among the thickest ran;
Here first our ruin from our friends began,
Who from the temple's battlements a shower
Of darts and arrows on our heads did pour;
They us for Greeks, and now the Greeks (whơ
Cassandra's rescue) us for Trojans slew. [knew
Then from all parts Ulysses, Ajax then,
And then th' Atridæ, rally all their men ;
As winds, that meet from several coasts, contest,
Their prisons being broke, the south and west,
And Eurus on his winged coursers borne,
Triumphing in their speed, the woods are torn,
And chasing Nereus with his trident throws
The billows from the bottom; then all those
Who in the dark our fury did escape,
Returning, know our borrow'd arms, and shape,
And different dialect: then their numbers swell
And grow upon us. Firs Chorobus fel
Before Minerva's altar, next did bleed
Just Ripheus, whom no Trojan did'exceed
In virtue, yet the gods his fate decreed.
Then Hypanis and Dymas, wounded by
Their friends; nor thee, Pantheus, thy piety,
Nor consecrated mitre, from the same

Ill fate could save; my country's funeral flame
And Troy's cold ashes I attest, and call
To witness for myself, that in their fall
No foes, no death, nor danger, I declin'd,
Did, and deserv'd no less, my fate to find,

R

Now Iphitus with me, and Pelias
Slowly retire; the one retarded was
By feeble age, the other by a wound.
To court the cry directs us, where we found
Th' assault so hot, as if 'twere only there,
And all the rest secure from foes or fear :
The Greeks the gates approach'd, their targets

cast

Over their heads; some scaling ladders plac'd
Against the walls, the rest the steps ascend,
And with their shields on their left arms defend
Arrows and darts, and with their right hold fast
The battlement; on them the Trojans cast
Stones, rafters, pillars, beams; such arms as
these,

Now hopeless, for their last defence they seize. The gilded roofs, the marks of ancient state, They tumble down; and now against the gate Of th' inner court their growing force they bring:

Now was our last effort to save the king,
Relieve the fainting, and succeed the dead.
A private gallery 'twixt th' apartments led,
Not to the foe yet known, or not observ'd,
(The way for Hector's hapless wife reserv'd,
When to the aged king, her little son [run
She would present) through this we pass, and
Up to the highest battlement, from whence
The Trojans threw their darts without offence,
A tower so high, it seem'd to reach the sky,
Stood on the roof, from whence we could descry
All Ilium-both the camps, the Grecian fleet;
This, where the beams upon the columns meet,
We loosen, which like thunder from the cloud
Breaks on their heads, as sudden and as loud.
But others still succeed: meantime, nor stones
Nor any kind of weapons cease.

Before the gate in gilded armour shone [grown, Young Pyrrhus, like a snake, his skin new Who fed on poisonous herbs, all winter lay Under the ground, and now reviews the day Fresh in his new apparel, proud and young, ⚫ Rolls up his back, and brandishes his tongue, And lifts his scaly breast against the Sun; With him his father's squire, Automedon, And Peripas, who drove his winged steeds, Enter the court; whom all the youth succeeds Of Scyros' isle; who flaming firebrands flung Up to the roof; Pyrrhus himself among The foremost with an axe an entrance hews Through beams of solid oak, then freely views The chambers, galleries, and rooms of state, Where Priam and the ancient monarchs sat. At the first gate an armed guard appears ; But th' inner court with horrour,noise, and tears, Confus'dly fill'd, the women's shrieks and cries The arch'd vaults re-echo to the skies; Sad matrons wandering through the spacious

rooms

Embrace and kiss the posts: then Pyrrhus comes
Full of his father, neither men nor walls
His force sustain, the torn portcullis falls,
Then from the hinge their strokes the gates di-

And now between two sad extremes I stood,
Here Pyrrhus and th' Atridæ drunk with blood,
There th' hapless queen amongst an hundred
dames,

And Priam quenching from his wounds those flames

Which his own hands had on the altar laid ; Then they the secret cabinets invade, Where stood the fifty nuptial beds, the hopes Of that great race; the golden posts, whose tops Old hostile spoils adorn'd, demolish'd lay, Or to the foe, or to the fire a prey. Now Priam's fate perhaps you may inquire: Seeing his empire lost, his Troy on fire, And his own palace by the Greeks possest, Arms long disus'd his trembling limbs invest ; Thus on his foes he throws himself alone, Not for their fate, but to provoke his own: There stood an altar open to the view Of Heaven, near which an aged laurel grew, Whose shady arms the household gods embrac'd, Before whose feet the queen herself had cast With all her daughters, and the Trojan wives, As doves whom an approaching tempest driveS And frights into one flock; but having spy'd Old Priam clad in youthful arm, she cried, "Alas, my wretched husband, what pretence To bear those arms, and in them what defence? Such aid such times require not, when again If Hector were alive, he liv'd in vain ; Or here we shall a sanctuary find, Or as in life we shall in death be join'd." Then weeping, with kind force held and embrac'd, And on the secret seat the king she plac'd. Meantime Polites, one of Priam's sons, Flying the rage of bloody Pyrrhus, runs Through foes and swords, and ranges all the court, And empty galleries, amaz'd and hurt; Pyrrhus pursues him, now o'ertakes, now kills, And his last blood in Priam's presence spills. The king (though him so many deaths enclose) Nor fear, nor grief, but indignation shows; "The gods requite thee, (if within the care Of those above th' affairs of mortals are) Whose fury on the son but lost had been, Had not his parents' eyes his murder seen: Not that Achilles (whom thou feign'st to be Thy father) so inhuman was to me; He blusht, when I the rights of arms implor'd; To me my Hector, me to Troy restor❜d:" This said, his feeble arm a javelin flung, Which on the sounding shield, searce entering

|

vorce,

And where the way they cannot find, they force.
Not with such rage a swelling torrent flows
Above his banks, th' opposing dams o'erthrows,
Depopulates the fields, the caitle, sheep,
Shepherds and folds, the foaming surges sweep.

rung.

Then Pyrrhus; "Go a messenger to Hell
Of my black deeds, and to my father tell
The acts of his degenerate race." So through
His son's warm blood the trembling king he
drew

To th' altar; in his hair one hand he wreaths;
His sword the other in his bosom sheaths.
Thus fell the king, who yet surviv'd the state,
With such a signal and peculiar fate,
Under so vast a ruin, not a grave,
Nor n such flames a funeral fire to have:
He whom such titles swell'd, such power made
proud,

To whom the sceptres of all Asia bow'd,
On the cold earth lies th' unreaded king,
A headless carcase, and a nameless thing.

1

ON THE EARL OF STRAFFORD...TO A PERSON OF HONOUR. 243

Since man to that perfection cannot rise,
ON THE EARL OF STRAFFORD'S Of always virtuous, fortunate, and wise;
TRIAL AND DEATH.

Therefore the patterns man should imitate
Above the life our masters should ereate.

Herein, if we consult with Greece and Rome, Great Strafford ! worthy of that name, though Greece (as in war) by Rome was overcome; all

Though mighty raptures we in Homer find, Of thee could be forgotten, but thy fall,

Yet, like himself, his characters were blind; Crush'd by imaginary treason's weight,

Virgil's sublimed eyes not only gaz'd, Which too much merit did accumulate:

But bis sublimed thoughts to Heaven were As chymists gold from brass by fire would draw,

raiz'd. Pretexts are into treason forg'd by law.

Who reads the honours which he paid the gods, His wisdom such, at once it did appear

Would think he had beheld their blest abodes; Three kingdoms' wonder, and three kingdoms' And that his hero might accomplish'd be, fear;

From divine blood he draws his pedigree. While single he stood forth, and seem'd, although From that great judge your judgment takes its Each had an army, as an equal foe.

law,
Such was his force of eloquence, to make And by the best original does draw
The hearers more concern’d than he that spake ; Bonduca's honour, with those heroes Time
Each seem'd to act that part he came to see, Had in oblivion wrapt, bis saucy crime;
And none was more a looker-on than he ; To them and to your nation you are just,
So did he move our passions, some were known In raising up their glories from the dust;
To wish, for the defence, the crime their own. And to Old England you that right have done
Now private piły.strove with public hate, To show, no story nobler than her own.
Reason with rage, and eloquence with fate:
Now they could him, if he could them forgive ;
He's not too guilty, but -too wise to live;
Less seem those facts which Treason's nick-name
bore,

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF
Than such a fear'd ability for more.
They afier death their fears of him express,
His innocence and their own guilt confess.

HENRY LORD HASTINGS, 1650.
Their legislative frenzy they repent :
Enacting it should make no precedeut. (lose Reader, preserve thy peace; those busy eyes
This fate he could have 'seapyd, but would not Will weep at their own sad discoveries ;
Honour for life, but rather nobiy chose

When every line they add improves thy loss, Death from their fears, than safety from his Till having view'd the whole, they sum own,

cross; Tnat his last action all the rest might crown.

Such as derides thy passions' best relief,
And scorns the succours of thy easy grief.
Yet, lest thy ignorance betray thy name

Of man and pious, read and mourn : the shame TO A PERSON OF HONOUR,

Of an exemption, from just sense, doth show

Irrational, beyond excess of woe.
ON HIS INCOMPARABLE POEM7.

Since reason, then, can privilege a tear,
What mighty gale hath rais'd a flight so strong? U pon this noble urn. Here, here, remains

Manbood, uncensur'd, pay that tribute here, So high above all vulgar eyes! so long? One single rapture scarce itself confines

Dust far more precious than in India's veins :

Within these cold embraces, ravish'd, lies Within the limits of four thousand lines :

That which compleats the age's tyrannies :
And yet I hope to see this noble heat

Who weak to such another ill appear,
Continue, till it makes the piece complete,
That to the latter age it may descend,

For what destroys our hope, secures our fear. And to the end of time its beams extend.

What sin unexpiate!, in this land When Poesy joins profit with delight,

Of groans, hath guided so severe a band ? Her images should be most exquisite,

The late great victim 2 that your altars knew,

Ye angry gods, might have excus'd this new 1 The honourable Edward Howard, by his oblation, and have spar’d one lofty light

Of virtue, to inform our steps aright; poem called The British Princes, engaged the By whose example good, condemned, we attention of by far the most eminent of his con

Might hare run on to kinder destiny. temporaries; who played upon his vanity, as

But as the leader of the herd fell first the wits of half a century before had done on that of Thomas Coryat, by writing extravagant of inflam'd vengeance for past crimes ; soñone

A sacrifice, to quench the raging thirst compliments on bis works. See Butler's, Wal-But this white-fatted youngling cou'd atone, ler's, Spçats, and Dorset's verses,jn their respec. By his untimely fate; that impious smoke, tive volumes; and in the Select Collection of That sullied Earth, and did Heaven's pity choke. Miscellaneous Poems, 1780, vol. III. p. 105, are other verses on the same subject, by Marton Clifford, and the lord Vaughan: n.

? King Charles the First.

a

SUBJECTS THERE

Let it suffice for us, that we have lost

Thus the constitution
In him more than the widow'd world can boast Condemns them every one,
In any lump of her remaining clay.

From the father to the son.
Fair as the grey ey'd Morn he was ; the day,

But John
Youthful, and climbing upwards still, imparts
No haste like that of his increasing parts ;

(Our friend) Molleson

Thought us to have out-gone
Like the meridian beam, his virtue's light

With a quaint invention.
Was seen, as full of comfort and as bright.
Had his noon been as fix'd as clear-but he, Like the prophets of yore,
That only wanted immortality

He complain'd long before,
To make him perfect, now submits to night, Of the mischiefs in store,
In the black bosom of whose sable spite,

Ay, and thrice as much more.
He leaves a cloud of flesh behind, and flies,
Refin'd, all ray and glory, to the skies.

And with that wicked lye,
Great saint ! shine there in an eternal sphere,

A letter they came by And tell those powers to whom thou now draw'st | From our king's majesty. near,

[dead, That by our trembling sense, in HASTINGS Brought the letter too late,

But Fate Their anger and our ugly faults are read;

'Twas of too old a date The short lines of whose life did to our eyes

To relieve their damn'd state,
Their love and majesty epitomize :
Tell them, whose stern degrees impuse our laws, The letters to be seen,
The feasted Grave may close her hollow jaws: With seal of wax so green,
Though Sin search Nature, to provide her here At Dantzige where 't has been
A second entertainment half so dear,

Turn'd into good Latin.
She'll never meet a plenty like this hearse,
Till Time present her with the universe.

But he that gave the hint
This letter for to print,

Must also pay his stint.
ON MY LORD CROFT'S AND MY JOURNEY INTO POLAND,

That trick,
FROM WHENCE WE BROUGHT 10,0001. FOR HIS Had it come in the nick,
MAJESTY, BY THE DECIMATION OF his scoTISH Had touch'd us to the quick,

But the messenger fell sick.
Tole, tole,

Had it later been wrote,
Gentle bell, for the soul

And sooner been brought, Of the pure ones in Pole,

They had got what they sought, Which are damn'd in our scroul.

But now it serves for nought. Who having felt a touch

On Sandys they ran aground, Of Cockram's greedy clutch,

And our return was crown'd
Which though it was not much,

With full ten thousand pound.
Yet their stubborness was such,
That when we did arrive,
'Gainst the stream we did strive;
They would neither lead nor drive :

ON MR. THO. KILLICREW'S RETURN FROM VENICE,

AND MR. WILLIAM MURREY'S FROM SCOTLAND. Nor lend An ear to a friend,

Our resident Tom, Nor an answer would send

From Venice is come, To our letter so well penn'd.

And hath left the statesman behind him:

Talks at the same pitch, Nor assist our affairs

Is as wise, is as rich ; With their monies nor their wares,

And just where you left him, you find him. As their answer now declares, But only with their prayers.

But who says he was not Thas they did persist

A man of much plot, Did and said what they list,

May repent that false accusations Till the diet was dismist;

Having plotted and penn'd

Six plays, to attend
But then our breech they kist.

The farce of his negotiation.
For when
It was mov'd there and then

Before you were told

How Satan 3 the old They should pay one in ten,

Came here with a beard to his middle; The diet said, Amen.

Though he chang'd face and names And because they are loth

Old Will was the same,
To discover the troth,

At the noise of a can and a fiddle.
They must give word and oath,
Though they will forfeit both.

3 Mr. W. Murrey.

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