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out to his work, and after the usual
occupations of Agatha were finished, the Arabian sat at the feet of the
old man, and taking his guitar, played some airs so entrancingly
beautiful that they at once drew tears of sorrow and delight from my
eyes. She sang, and her voice flowed in a rich cadence, swelling or
dying away like a nightingale of the woods.
“When she had finished, she gave the guitar to Agatha, who at first
declined it. She played a simple air, and her voice accompanied it in
swe
Details
and affrights the Greeks with his thunders and lightnings.
Nestor alone continues in the field in great danger: Diomed relieves him;
whose exploits, and those of Hector, are excellently described. Juno
endeavours to animate Neptune to the assistance of the Greeks, but in
vain. The acts of Teucer, who is at length wounded by Hector, and carried
off. Juno and Minerva prepare to aid the Grecians, but are restrained by
Iris, sent from Jupiter. The night puts an end to the battle. Hector
continues in the field, (the Greeks being driven to their fortifications
before the ships,) and gives orders to keep the watch all night in the
camp, to prevent the enemy from re-embarking and escaping by flight. They
kindle fires through all the fields, and pass the night under arms.
The time of seven and twenty days is employed from the opening of the poem
to the end of this book. The scene here (except of the celestial machines)
lies in the field towards the seashore.
Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn,
Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn;
When Jove convened the senate of the skies,
Where high Olympus' cloudy tops arise,
The sire of gods his awful silence broke;
The heavens attentive trembled as he spoke:
"Celestial states! immortal gods! give ear,
Hear our decree, and reverence what ye hear;
The fix'd decree which not all heaven can move;
Thou, fate! fulfil it! and, ye powers, approve!
What god but enters yon forbidden field,
Who yields assistance, or but wills to yield,
Back to the skies with shame he shall be driven,
Gash'd with dishonest wounds, the scorn of heaven;
Or far, oh far, from steep Olympus thrown,
Low in the dark Tartarean gulf shall groan,
With burning chains fix'd to the brazen floors,
And lock'd by hell's inexorable doors;
As deep beneath the infernal centre hurl'd,(190)
As from that centre to the ethereal world.
Let him who tempts me, dread those dire abodes:
And know, the Almighty is the god of gods.
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