vouring dogs and hungry vultures tore;
Since great Achilles and Atrides strove.
Such was the sov'reign doom, and such the will of Jove.

_Pope._

MINERVA ARMING HERSELF FOR BATTLE.

(_By Homer._)

Minerva wrapt her in the robe that curiously she wove
With glorious colors, as she sate on th' azure floor of Jove;
And wore the arms that he puts on, bent to the tearful field.
About her broad-spread shoulders hung his huge and horrid shield,
Fring'd round with ever-fighting snakes; though it was drawn to life
The miseries and deaths of fight; in it frown'd bloody Strife;
In it shin'd sacred Fortitude; in it fell Pursuit flew;
In it the monster Gorgon's head, in which held out to view
Were all the dire ostents of Jove; on her big head she plac'd
His four-plum'd glittering casque of gold, so admirably vast,
It would an hundred garrisons of soldiers comprehend.
Then to her shining chariot her vigorous feet ascend;
And in her violent hand she takes his grave, huge, solid lance,
With which the conquests of her wrath she useth to advance,
And overturn whole fields of men; to show she was the seed
Of him that thunders. Then heaven's queen, to urge her horses' speed,
Takes up the scourge, and forth they fly; the ample gates of heaven
Rung, and flew open of themselves; the charge whereof is given,
With all Olympus and the sky, to the distinguish'd Hours;
That clear or hide it all in clouds, or pour it down in showers.
This way their scourge-obeying horse made haste, and soon they won
The top of all the topful heavens, where aged Saturn's son
Sate severed from the other gods.

_Chapman's translation_, v.

PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.

(_By Homer._)

Hector now pass'd, with sad presaging heart,
To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part;
At home he sought her, but he sought in vain:
She, with one maid of all her menial train,
Had thence retired; and with her second joy,
The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy:
Pensive she stood on Ilion's towery height,
Beheld the war, and sicken'd at the sight;
There her sad eyes in vain her lord explore,
Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore.
Hector this heard, return'd without delay;
Swift through the town he trod his former way,
Through streets of pal