. Pope's translation of Homer's Iliad, books I, VI, XXII, XXIV; . she plied the melancholy loom;A growing work employd her secret hours,Confusdly gay with intermingled flowrs. 570 Her fair-haird handmaids heat the brazen urn,The bath preparing for her lords return:In vain ; alas ! her lord returns no more !Unbathd he lies, and bleeds along the shore!Now from the walls the clamours reach her ear, 575 And all her members shake with sudden fear ;Forth from her ivry hand the shuttle falls,As thus, astonishd, to her maids she calls : Ah, follow me ! (she cried) what plaintiff noiseInvades my ear ?
. Pope's translation of Homer's Iliad, books I, VI, XXII, XXIV; . she plied the melancholy loom;A growing work employd her secret hours,Confusdly gay with intermingled flowrs. 570 Her fair-haird handmaids heat the brazen urn,The bath preparing for her lords return:In vain ; alas ! her lord returns no more !Unbathd he lies, and bleeds along the shore!Now from the walls the clamours reach her ear, 575 And all her members shake with sudden fear ;Forth from her ivry hand the shuttle falls,As thus, astonishd, to her maids she calls : Ah, follow me ! (she cried) what plaintiff noiseInvades my ear ? Tis sure my mothers voice. 580 My faltring knees their trembling frame desert,A pulse unusual flutters at my strange disaster, some reverse of fate(Ye gods avert it!) threats the Trojan be the omen which my thoughts snggest! 585 But much I fear my Hectors dauntless breastConfronts Achilles ; chasd along the plain,Shut from our walls! I fear, I fear him slain!Safe in the crowd he ever scornd to wait,And sought for glory in the jaws of fate:. BOOK XXII 77 590 Perhaps that noble heat has cost his breath, Now quenchd for ever in the arms of spoke; and, furious, with distracted pace, Fears in her heart and anguish in her face, Mies through the dome (the maids her step pursue),595 And mounts the walls, and sends around her view. Too soon her eyes the killing object found, The godlike Hector draggd along the ground. A sudden darkness shades her swimming eyes: She faints, she falls; her breath, her colour Her hairs fair ornaments, the braids that bound, The net that held them, and the wreath that crownd, The veil and diadem, flew far away (The gift of Venus on her bridal day). Around a train of weeping sisters stands,fi05 To raise her sinking with assistant hands. Scarce from the verge of death recalld, again She faints, or but recovers to complain: 0 wretched husband of a wretched wife! Born with one fate, to one unhappy life!610 For sure one s
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Keywords: ., bookauthorhomer, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectepic
