overreachings

Item No. comdagen-6602032538174278629
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Greeks should have left their camp and fleet unfortified during nine years, in the midst of a hostile country, is a purely poetical one: 'So long as Achilles fought, the terror of his name sufficed to keep every foe at a distance.' The disasters consequent on his secession first led to the necessity of other means of protection. Accordingly, in the battles previous to the eighth book, no allusion occurs to a rampart; in all those which follow it forms a promi

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The world's great ruler, felt her venom'd dart; Deceived by Juno's wiles, and female art: For when Alcmena's nine long months were run, And Jove expected his immortal son, To gods and goddesses the unruly joy He show'd, and vaunted of his matchless boy: 'From us, (he said) this day an infant springs, Fated to rule, and born a king of kings.' Saturnia ask'd an oath, to vouch the truth, And fix dominion on the favour'd youth. The Thunderer, unsuspicious of the fraud, Pronounced those solemn words that bind a god. The joyful goddess, from Olympus' height, Swift to Achaian Argos bent her flight: Scarce seven moons gone, lay Sthenelus's wife; She push'd her lingering infant into life: Her charms Alcmena's coming labours stay, And stop the babe, just issuing to the day. Then bids Saturnius bear his oath in mind; 'A youth (said she) of Jove's immortal kind Is this day born: from Sthenelus he springs, And claims thy promise to be king of kings.' Grief seized the Thunderer, by his oath engaged; Stung to the soul, he sorrow'd, and he raged. From his ambrosial head, where perch'd she sate, He snatch'd the fury-goddess of debate, The dread, the irrevocable oath he swore, The immortal seats should ne'er behold her more; And whirl'd her headlong down, for ever driven From bright Olympus and the starry heaven: Thence on the nether world the fury fell; Ordain'd with man's contentious race to dwell. Full oft the god his son's hard toils bemoan'd, Cursed the dire fury, and in secret groan'd.(258) Even thus, like Jove himself, was I misled, While raging Hector heap'd our camps with dead. What can the errors of my rage atone? My martial troops, my treasures are thy own: This instant from the navy shall be sent Whate'er Ulysses promised at thy tent: But thou! appeased, propitious to our prayer, Resume thy arms, and shine again in war." " O king of nations! whose superior sway (Returns Achilles) all o