Cursed is the man, and void of law and right,
Unworthy property, unworthy light,
Unfit for public rule, or private care;
That wretch, that monster, who delights in war:
Whose lust is murder, and whose horrid joy
To tear his country, and his kind destroy!
Pope, Iliad, ix.
FALSEHOOD.
(By Homer.)
Who dares think one thing, and another tell,
My heart detests him as the gates of hell.
Pope, Iliad, ix.
SHOWERS OF ARROWS.
(By Homer.)
As the feathery snows
Fall frequent on some wintry day, when Jove
Hath risen to shed them on the race of man,
And show his arrowy stores; he lulls the wind
Then shakes them down continual, covering thick
Mountain tops, promontories, flowery meads,
And cultured valleys rich, and ports and shores
Along the margined deep; but there the wave
Their further progress stays; while all besides
Lies whelm'd beneath Jove's fast-descending shower;
So thick, from side to side, by Trojans hurled
Against the Greeks, and by the Greeks returned,
The stony volleys flew.
Cowper, Iliad, xii.