Iliad.
"The Anger of Achilles, Goddess, sing;
Which to the Greeks did endless Sorrows bring;
And sent untimely, to the Realms of Night,
The Souls of many Chiefs, renown'd in Fight:
And gave their Bodies for the Dogs to tear,
And every hungry Fowl that wings the Air.
And thus accomplish'd was the Will of Jove,
Since first Atrides and Achilles strove.
What God the fatal Enmity begun?
Latonâ's, and great Jove's immortal Son.
He through the Camp a dire Contagion spread,
The Prince offended, and the People bled:
With publick Scorn, Atrides had disgrac'd
The Reverend Chryses, Phœbus' chosen Priest.
"He to redeem his Daughter, sought the Shore,
Where lay the Greeks, and mighty Presents bore:
Deckt with the Ensigns of his God, he stands,
The Crown, the golden Sceptre in his Hands;
To all he su'd, but to the Princes most,
Great Atreus's Sons, the Leaders of the Host:
Princes! and Grecian Warriors! may the Gods
(The Pow'rs that dwell in Heav'ns sublime Abodes)
Give you to level Priam's haughty Tow'rs,
And safely to regain your native Shores.
But my dear Daughter to her Sire restore,
These Gifts accept, and dread Apollo's Pow'r;
The Son of Jove; he bears a mighty Bow,
And from afar his Arrows gall the Foe.