. Pope's The Iliad of Homer, books I, VI, XXII, and XXIV;. melancholy shades below, The flames of friends and lovers cease to glow, Yet mine shall sacred last; mine, undecayd, Burn on through death, and animate my shade. 490 Meanwhile, ye sons of Greece, in triumph bring The corse of Hector, and your Paeans sing. Be this the song, slow moving towrd the shore, Hector is dead, and Ilion is no more. Then his fell soul a thought of vengeance bred ; 495(Unworthy of himself, and of the dead ;)The nervous ancles bord, his feet he boundWith thongs inserted through the double wound;These fixd up high b
. Pope's The Iliad of Homer, books I, VI, XXII, and XXIV;. melancholy shades below, The flames of friends and lovers cease to glow, Yet mine shall sacred last; mine, undecayd, Burn on through death, and animate my shade. 490 Meanwhile, ye sons of Greece, in triumph bring The corse of Hector, and your Paeans sing. Be this the song, slow moving towrd the shore, Hector is dead, and Ilion is no more. Then his fell soul a thought of vengeance bred ; 495(Unworthy of himself, and of the dead ;)The nervous ancles bord, his feet he boundWith thongs inserted through the double wound;These fixd up high behind the rolling wain,His graceful head was trailed along the plain. 500 Proud on his car th insulting victor stood,And bore aloft his arms, distilling smites the steeds; the rapid chariot flies;The sudden clouds of circling dust lost is all that formidable air; 505 The face divine, and long-descending hair,Purple the ground, and streak the sable sand;Deformd, dishonourd, in his native land !Given to the rage of an insulting throng !. Friedrich Preller. Iliad —Book XXII., 495-510. BOOK XXII. 67 And, in his parents sight, now draggd along. 510 The mother first beheld with sad survey;She rent her tresses, venerably grey,And cast far off the regal veils piercing shrieks his bitter fate she moans,While the sad father answers groans with groans ; 515 Tears after tears his mournful cheeks oerflow,And the whole city wears one face of woe :No less than if the rage of hostile fires,From her foundations curling to her spiresOer the proud citadel at length should rise, 520 And the last blaze send Ilion to the wretched monarch of the falling state,Distracted, presses to the Dardan gate :Scarce the whole people stop his desperate course,While strong affliction gives the feeble force : 525 Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro,In all the raging impotence of length he rolld in dust, and thus begun,Imploring all, and naming one by one
Size: 1394px × 1793px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorhomer, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectepic
