He spoke, and lanc'd his jav'lin at the foe;
But Hector shunn'd the meditated blow:
Minerya watch'd it falling on the land :
Then drew, and gave to great Achilles' hand,
Unseen of Hector, who, elate with joy,
Now shakes his lance and braves the dread of Troy..
Hector beheld his jav'lin fall in vain,
Nor other lance, nor other hope remain:
In vain ; for no Deiphobus was there.
All comfortless he stands; then with a sigh:
Tis so, heaven wills it and my hour is nigh:
Fierce, at the word, his weighty sword he drew,
And all collected, on Achilles flew,
So Jove's bold bird, high balanc'd in the air,
Stoops from the clouds to truss the quiv'ring hare,
Nor less Achilles his fierce soul prepares,
Before his breast the flaming shield he bears,
Refulgent orb! above his fourfold cone
The gilded horse-hair sparkled in the sun,
Nodding at every step, (Vulcanian frame!)
And as he mov'd his figure seem'd on flame.
In his right hand he waves the weapon round,
Eyes the whole man and meditates the wound:
Prone on the field the bleeding warriour lies,
While thus triumphing stern Achilles cries.
The fates suppress'd his lab'ring breath,
And his eyes stiffen'd at the hand of death:
To the dark realm the spirit wings its way,
(The manly body left a load of clay)
High o'er the slain the great Achilles stands,
Begirt with heroes and surrounding bands.
Meanwhile, ye sons of Greece, in triumph bring
The corpse of Hector, and your Poeans sing,
Be this the song, slow moving tow'rd the shore,
Hector is dead and Ilion is no more.
Then his fell soul a thought of vengeance bred,
(Unworthy of himself and of the dead)
The nervous ancles bor'd, his feet he bound
With thongs inserted thro' the double wound;
These fix'd, up high behind the rolling wain,
His graceful head was trail'd along the plain.
or rage
Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous❜d,
Now, Erato! thy poet's mind inspire,
And fill his soul with thy celestial fire,
Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings:
Declare the past and present state of things,
When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought,
And how the rivals loved, and how they fought.
These are my theme: and how the war began,
And how concluded by the godlike man ;
Latinus, old and mild, had long possess'd
The Latin sceptre and his people bless'd;
His father Faunus ; a Laurentian dame,
His mother, Marcia was her name.
But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew
His birth from Saturn, if records be true.
Thus king Latinus, in the third degree,
Had Saturn author of his family.
But this old peaceful prince, as heaven decreed,
Was bless'd with no male issue to succeed;
His sons, in blooming youth, were snatch'd by
One only daughter heir'd the royal state.
Among the crow'd, but far above the rest,
Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address'd.
Turnus, for high descent and graceful mein,
Was first and favour'd by the Latian queen ;
With him she strove to join Lavinia's hand;
But dire portents the purpos'd match withstand.
Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood
A laurel's trunk, a venerable wood;
Where rites divine were paid, whose holy hair
Was kept and cut with superstitious care.
This plant Latinus, when his town he wall'd,
Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call'd
And last, in honour of his new abode,
He vow'd the laurel to the laurel's god.
It happen'd once, (a boding prodigy !)
A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky,
(Unknown from whence they took their airy
flight)
Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight ;
There, with their feet together clung,
And a long cluster from the laurel hung.
An ancient augur prophecied from thence:
"Behold, on Latin shore a foreign prince,
From the same part of heav'n his navy stands,
To the same part on earth; his army lands;
The town he conquers, and the tow'r commands."
when fair Lavinia fed the fire
Before the gods, and stood beside her sire,
(Strange to relate!) the flames, involved in smoke
Of incense, from the sacred altar broke,
Caught her dishevell❜d hair and rich attire :
Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire;
From thence the fuming trail began to spread,
And lambent glories danc'd about her head.
of the flower and fruits called spatha: the fruits are round, and the size of an egg. The Dactylus Palmula, the great palm-tree, or date-tree, is cultivated in the southern parts of Europe; its fruit is oblong, larger than an acorn, and includes a stone. The best dates come from Tunis: they are eaten as food in Africa.
for God on thee Abundantly his gifts hath also pour'd
Thou hast given me the shield of thy salvation; and thy right hand hath holden me up, and thy gentleness hath made me great. Psalms, xviii. 35. Sweet mercy drops,
As gentle dew from heaven, on earth beneath:
Twice blessed is it ; for on him that gives,
No less than him that takes, descends the balm
Of mercy's benediction: 'tis a gem
Adorns the monarch far beyond his crown;
For 'tis of heaven.itself the attribute;
And tow'rd celestial earthly deeds approach,
When mercy seasons justice.
So sang SHAKSPEARE. 224 Nor less think we in heaven of thee on earlh Than of our fellow servant,
For I am thy fellow servant: I am subject to the same Lord, and share in the duty and service of thy brethren the prophets: worship God alone, and divide not thy religious homage between him and any creature, how exalted and excellent
Ye servants of th' Almighty Lord,
The honours of his name record;
His sacred name for ever bless.
Let lands and seas his power confess.
He reigns where'er the sun displays
His rising beams, or setting rays;
Nor time, nor nature's narrow rounds,
Can give his vast dominion bounds.
He bows his glorious head to view
What the bright host of angels do;
And though he reigns the King of kings,
Yet bends his care to mortal things.
As new awak'd from soundest sleep, Soft on the flow'ry herb I found me laid
And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.
At last, to shew my Maker's name,
God stamp'd his image on my frame;
And, in some unknown moment join'd,
The finish'd members to the mind.
There the young seeds of thought began,
And all the passions of the man:
Great God, our infant nature pays
Immortal tribute to thy praise! WATTS. for none I know
Second to me or like, equal much less.
That thou mayest know, there is none like unto Jehovah. Exod. viii. 10.
Knew it not good for man to be alone,
Even this spot was not completely happy,
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