burn'd, And, sadly slow, to sacred Troy return'd. Nor less the Greeks their pious sorrows shed, And decent on the pile dispose the dead; The cold remains consume with equal care; And slowly, sadly, to their fleet repair. Now, ere the morn had streak'd with reddening light The doubtful confines of the day and night, About the dying flames the Greeks appear'd, And round the pile a general tomb they rear'd. Then, to secure the camp and naval powers, They raised embattled walls with lofty towers:(186) From space to space were ample gates around, For passing chariots, and a trench profound Of large extent; and deep in earth below, Strong piles infix'd stood adverse to the foe. So toil'd the Greeks: meanwhile the gods above, In shining circle round their father Jove, Amazed beheld the wondrous works of man: Then he, whose trident shakes the earth, began: "What mortals henceforth shall our power adore, Our fanes frequent, our oracles implore, If the proud Grecians thus successful boast Their rising bulwarks on the sea-beat coast? See the long walls extending to the main, No god consulted, and no victim slain! Their fame shall fill the world's remotest ends, Wide as the morn her golden beam extends; While old Laomedon's divine abodes, Those radiant structures raised by labouring gods, Shall, razed and lost, in long oblivion sleep." Thus spoke the hoary monarch of the deep. The almighty Thunderer with a frown replies, That clouds the world, and blackens half the skies: "Strong god of ocean! thou, whose rage can make The solid earth's eternal basis shake! What cause of fear from mortal works could move(187) The meanest subject of our realms above? Where'er the sun's refulgent rays are cast, Thy power is honour'd, and thy fame shall last. But yon proud work no future age shall view, No trace remain where once the glory grew. The sapp'd foundations by thy force shall fall, And, whelm'd ben