lunacy

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feast to share. Now from the well-fed swine black smokes aspire, The bristly victims hissing o'er the fire: The huge ox bellowing falls; with feebler cries Expires the goat; the sheep in silence dies. Around the hero's prostrate body flow'd, In one promiscuous stream, the reeking blood. And now a band of Argive monarchs brings The glorious victor to the king of kings. From his dead friend the pensive warrior went, With steps unwilling, to the regal tent. The attending hera

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goddess to her son replied,) Whole years untouch'd, uninjured shall remain, Fresh as in life, the carcase of the slain. But go, Achilles, as affairs require, Before the Grecian peers renounce thine ire: Then uncontroll'd in boundless war engage, And heaven with strength supply the mighty rage!" [Illustration: THETIS BRINGING THE ARMOUR TO ACHILLES.] THETIS BRINGING THE ARMOUR TO ACHILLES. Then in the nostrils of the slain she pour'd Nectareous drops, and rich ambrosia shower'd O'er all the corse. The flies forbid their prey, Untouch'd it rests, and sacred from decay. Achilles to the strand obedient went: The shores resounded with the voice he sent. The heroes heard, and all the naval train That tend the ships, or guide them o'er the main, Alarm'd, transported, at the well-known sound, Frequent and full, the great assembly crown'd; Studious to see the terror of the plain, Long lost to battle, shine in arms again. Tydides and Ulysses first appear, Lame with their wounds, and leaning on the spear; These on the sacred seats of council placed, The king of men, Atrides, came the last: He too sore wounded by Agenor's son. Achilles (rising in the midst) begun: "O monarch! better far had been the fate Of thee, of me, of all the Grecian state, If (ere the day when by mad passion sway'd, Rash we contended for the black-eyed maid) Preventing Dian had despatch'd her dart, And shot the shining mischief to the heart! Then many a hero had not press'd the shore, Nor Troy's glad fields been fatten'd with our gore. Long, long shall Greece the woes we caused bewail, And sad posterity repeat the tale. But this, no more the subject of debate, Is past, forgotten, and resign'd to fate. Why should, alas, a mortal man, as I, Burn with a fury that can never die? Here then my anger ends: let war succeed, And even as Greece has bled, let Ilion bleed. Now call the hosts, and try if i