The Greeks, in shouts, their joint assent declare
The priest to reverence, and release the fair.
Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride,
Repuls’d the sacred sire, and thus reply’d.
He said, the Greeks their joint assent declare,
The father said, the gen’rons Greeks relent,
T’ accept the ransom, and release the fair:
Revere the priest, and speak their joint assent:
Not so the tyrant, he, with kingly pride,
Atrides,
Repuls’d the sacred sire, and thus replied.
[Not so the tyrant. Dryden.]
Of these lines, and of the whole first book, I am told that there was yet a former copy, more varied, and more deformed with interlineations.
The beginning of the second book varies very little from the printed page, and is, therefore, set down without a parallel; the few differences do not require to be elaborately displayed.
Now pleasing sleep had seal’d each mortal eye;
Stretch’d in their tents the Grecian leaders lie;
Th’ immortals slumber’d on their thrones above,
All but the ever-watchful eye of Jove.
To honour Thetis’ son he bends his care,
And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war.
Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight,
And thus commands the vision of the night:
directs
Fly hence, delusive dream, and, light as air,
To Agamemnon’s royal tent repair;
Bid him in arms draw forth th’ embattled train,
March all his legions to the dusty plain.
Now tell the king ’tis given him to destroy
Declare ev’n now
The lofty walls of wide-extended Troy;
tow’rs
For now no more the gods with fate contend,
At Juno’s suit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction hovers o’er yon devoted wall,
hangs
And nodding Ilium waits th’ impending fall.
Invocation to the catalogue of ships:
Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine,
All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine!
Since earth’s wide regions, heaven’s unmeasur’d height,
And hell’s abyss, hide nothing from your sight,
(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,
But guess by rumour, and but boast we know,)
Oh! say what heroes, fir’d by thirst of fame,
Or urg’d by wrongs, to Troy’s destruction came!
To count them all demands a thousand tongues,
A throat of brass and adamantine lungs.
Now, virgin goddesses, immortal nine!
That round Olympus’ heavenly summit shine,
Who see through heaven and earth, and hell profound,
And all things know, and all things can resound!
Relate what armies sought the Trojan land,
What nations follow’d, and what chiefs command;
(For doubtful fame distracts mankind below,
And nothing can we tell, and nothing know,)
Without your aid, to count th’ unnumber’d train,
A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues, were vain.
Book v. v. 1.
But Pallas now Tydides’ soul inspires,
Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires;
Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise,
And crown her hero with distinguish’d praise.
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray;
Th’ unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies.
Like the red star that fires th’ autumnal skies.