But will depofe from his imperious Sway
This proud Ufurper, and walk free, as they
With Necks unyoak'd; nor is it just that He
Should. fetter your foft Sex with Chastity,
Which Nature made unapt for Abftinence;
When yet this falfe Impoftor can difpence.
With human Juftice, and with facred Right,
And maugre both their Laws, command me fight
With Rivals, or with emulous Loves, that dare
Equal with thine, their Mistress Eyes, or Hair:
If thou complain of Wrong, and call my Sword.
To carve out thy Revenge, upon that Word
He bids me fight and kill, or else he brands
With Marks of Infamy, my Coward Hands,
And yet Religion bids from Blood-fhed fly,
And damns me for that Act, then tell me why
This Goblin Honour which the World adores,
Should make Men Atheists, and not Women Whores?

Difputing with a LADY who left me in the ARGUMENT.

She did unequal War purfue,

Pare, gen'rous Victor, fpare the Slave

That more than Triumph he might have
In being overcome by you.

In the Difpute whate'er I faid,

My Heart was by my Tongue belyd, And in my Looks you might have read, How much I argu'd on your Side,

You, far from Danger as from Fear,
Might haye fuftain'd an open Fight;
For feldom your Opinions err,
Your Eyes are always in the right.

Why, Fair One, would you not rely
On Force thus formidably join'd?
Could I their Prevalence deny,

I must at once be Deaf and Blind.

But quicker Arts of Death you use, Traverse your Ground to gain the Field And, whilft my Argument pursues,

With fudden Silence bid me yield.

So when the Parthian turn'd his Steed,
And from the Hoftile Camp withdrew,
He backward fent the fatal Reed;
Secure of Conqueft as he flew.

Daunted, I dropt my useless Arms,
When you no longer deign'd to Fight,
Then Triumph deck'd in all its Charms,
Appear'd lefs beautiful than Flight

Oh! trace again the Hoftile Plains,
My Troops were wounded in the War,
But whilft this fiercer Silence reigns,
They fuffer, famih'd by Despair,

Capricious Author of my Smart,
Let War enfue, or Silence cease,
Unless you find my Coward Heart
Is yielding to a separate Peace,

The firft Book of HOMER'S ILIADS. Translated from the Greek by Mr. Maynwaring.

The ARGUMENT.

Chryfes, a Priest of Apollo, brings a Ranfom to the Græcians for his Captive Daughter Chryseis. Agamemnon (the Son of Atreus, and thence called Atrides) being General of the Army, and in Poffeffion of the Prifoner, refuses to Release her, and with Threats difmiffes her Father. The Priest prays for Vengeance to Apollo, who fends a Plague among the Greeks. Achilles Summons a Council, where he prevails with Chalcas, a Prophet, to tell the fecret Caufe of the God's Displeasure. The Prophet declares that Agamemnon ●ccafion❜d their Misfortunes by detaining Chrysëis. By that means the General is obliged to restore her: But afterwards, to be revenged on Achilles, he feizes his Captive Brisëis. Achilles complains of this to his Mother Thetis, and begs her Interceffion with Jupiter, to revenge his Injury on the Grecians, by giving ViHory to the Trojans,

Sing Achilles Wrath, O Mufe! prepare,

Twhich plung'd the Gracians in destructive Warg

And fent untimely to th' Infernal Coast,
The bravest Souls of Heroes early loft;
Whofe Limbs in Phrygian Plains extended lay,
Expos'd to Dogs and rav'nous Birds a Prey:
So Jove decreed, when fierce Contention rofe,
To make Atrides and Achilles Foes.

But fay, O Mufe! What unrelenting God,
In Friendly Breafts, thofe Seeds of Discord fow'd
Apollo, Jove's and Fair Latona's Son;
For he, refenting bold Injustice done,
A fatal Sickness to their Army brought;
The Soldiers perish'd for their Leaders Fault;

Whofe daring Voice with publick Scorn difmifs'd
The Suit of Chryfes, and revil'd the Prieft.

For Chryfes, charg'd with boundless Treasure,came
To free from fervile Bonds a Reauteous Dame:
His facred Hands, to move the Grecians more,
Apollo's Crown and Golden Scepter bore:
Their Chiefs he thus Addrefs'd, but Courted moft
The Sons of Atreus, Leaders of their Hoft.

Ye Kings of Greece! May each propitious God
That makes Olympus his fecure Abode,
Affift your Arms, King Priam's Town to take,
And lead your Forces fafe in Triumph back:
But free my Daughter, and my Gifts approve;
And fear the Great Apollo, Son of Jove.

With loud Applause the Greeks Consent express'd,
Approv'd the Ranfom, and rever'd the Prieft:
But King Atrides rude Expreffions us'd,
And, venting Threats, his humble Pray'r refus'd.
He faid, Old Dotard, leave our Hoftile Fleet,
Prevent my Fury with a fwift Retreat :

Unfold Chryseis fhall my Slave remain,

"Till, cloy'd with Joys, I break her useless Chain:
My Bed she shall adorn, and ply the Loom,
In Argos, diftant from her native Home:
Begone, and feek no more the Charming Dame;
If e'er thy Tongue renews this faucy Claim,
Soon fhalt thou find Protecting Pow'r deny'd
To that vain Scepter, born with Priestly Pride.
The trembling Prieft his dreadful Voice obey'd,
Along the Coaft in filent Paffion ftray'd;
And, while fecure in diftant Plains he stood,
With various Titles thus invok'd his God.

Propitious Phœbus! Hear thy Suppliant's Pray3rs,
Thou Guardian King, whom chosen Chryfa fears:
For whose Protection facred Cilla prays,
Thou glorious Light! whom Tenedos obeys;
If e'er thy Prieft a grateful Service paid,
Or Bulls and Goats on flaming Altars laid &

O Smintheus hear! and with thy Silver Bow
Dart the proud Grecians, and revenge my Woe.

His fervent Pray'r the God's Compaffion drew,
Who breathing Vengeance from Olympus flew;
His Shoulders bore a Bow and Quiver join'd,
Still, as he mov'd, his Arrows chink'd behind:
Unfeen as Night he came, and rang'd apart
The Grecian Fleet, and fent a deadly Dart;
The Twang was dreadful of his Silver Bow;
Firft only Mules and Dogs receiv'd the Blow ;
But laft at Men his Mortal Shafts were aim'd,
And Fun'ral Piles with difmal Blazes flam'd.
Achilles, when the Darts nine Days had rov'd,
The tenth a Council call'd, by Juno mov'd:
For much the White-arm'd Goddess griev❜d to find
Those Men deftroy'd, to whom her Heart inclin'd.
The fummon'd Hoft a throng'd Affembly made,
Where, rifing up, the God-like Heroe faid:
We now, Atrides, muft refolve again

To wander homewards through the doubtful Main,
If Flight may fill prevent approaching Doom,
Since War and Plagues at once the Greeks confame:
Some Prieft confult, for fome deep Prophet fend,
Or Dream-expounder, (Dreams from Jove defcend).
To learn the Caufe of our Impending Woes,
Due Sacrifice unpaid, or broken Vows;
If humble victims will this Plague remove,
Appease the Godhead, and regain his Love.

Then Calchas rofe, who beft foretold their Doom,
And knew the present, paft, and Things to come;
Who fafe to Troy the Gracian Navy brought,
By that Prophetick Art which Phœbus taught:
He faid, Achilles, beft belov'd of Jove,
Since you demand what dire Offences move
Apollo's Wrath, the Fatal Secret hear;

But first to fave me from Deftruction fwear:
A Prince will be provok'd, whofe boundless Sway
The Greeks acknowledge, and our Chiefs obey