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 ail
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 flourist'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. First Chorcebus fel
Before Minerva's altar, next did bleed
Just Pipheus, 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-

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.

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

|

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.

Let it suffice for us, that we have lost
In him more than the widow'd world can boast
In any lump of her remaining clay.
Fair as the grey ey'd Morn he was; the day,
Youthful, and climbing upwards still, imparts
No haste like that of his increasing parts;
Like the meridian beam, his virtue's light
Was seen, as full of comfort and as bright.
Had his noon been as fix'd as clear-but he,
That only wanted immortality
To make him perfect, now submits to night,
In the black bosom of whose sable spite,
He leaves a cloud of flesh behind, and flies,
Refin'd, all ray and glory, to the skies.

Great saint! shine there in an eternal sphere, And tell those powers to whom thou now draw'st

near, [dead, That by our trembling sense, in HASTINGS Their anger and our ugly faults are read; The short lines of whose life did to our eyes Their love and majesty epitomize: Tell them, whose stern degrees impose our laws, The feasted Grave may close her hollow jaws: Though Sin search Nature, to provide her here A second entertainment half so dear, She'll never meet a plenty like this hearse, Till Time present her with the universe.

ON MY LORD CROFT'S AND MY JOURNEY INTO POLAND, FROM WHENCE WE BROUGHT 10,0001. FOR HIS MAJESTY, BY THE DECIMATION OF HIS SCOTISH SUBJECTS THERE.

TOLE, tole, Gentle bell, for the soul Of the pure ones in Pole, Which are damn'd in our scroul.

Who having felt a touch
Of Cockram's greedy clutch,
Which though it was not much,
Yet their stubborness was such,

That when we did arrive, 'Gainst the stream we did strive; They would neither lead nor drive:

Nor lend

An ear to a friend,

Nor an answer would send

To our letter so well penn'd.

Nor assist our affairs
With their monies nor their wares,
As their answer now declares,
But only with their prayers.

Thus they did persist
Did and said what they list,
Till the diet was dismist;
But then our breech they kist.

For when

It was mov'd there and then They should pay one in ten, The diet said, Amen.

And because they are loth
To discover the troth,
They must give word and oath,
Though they will forfeit both.