“The Anger of Achilles, Goddess, sing; Which to the Greeks did endless Sorrows bring; And sent untimely, to the Realms of Night, The Souls of many Chiefs, renown’d in Fight:  And gave their Bodies for the Dogs to tear, And every hungry Fowl that wings the Air.  And thus accomplish’d was the Will of Jove, Since first Atrides and Achilles strove.  What God the fatal Enmity begun? Latona’s, and great Jove’s immortal Son.  He through the Camp a dire Contagion spread, The Prince offended, and the People bled:  With publick Scorn, Atrides had disgrac’d The Reverend Chryses, Phoebus’ chosen Priest.  He to redeem his Daughter, sought the Shore, Where lay the Greeks, and mighty Presents bore:  Deckt with the Ensigns of his God, he stands, The Crown, the golden Sceptre in his Hands; To all he su’d, but to the Princes most, Great Atreus’s Sons, the Leaders of the Host:  Princes! and Grecian Warriors! may the Gods (The Pow’rs that dwell in Heav’ns sublime Abodes) Give you to level Priam’s haughty Tow’rs, And safely to regain your native Shores.  But my dear Daughter to her Sire restore, These Gifts accept, and dread Apollo’s Pow’r; The Son of Jove; he bears a mighty Bow, And from afar his Arrows gall the Foe.

  AENEID.

  Arms and the Man I sing, the first who driv’n
  From Trojan Shores, the Fugitive of Heav’n,
  Came to th’ Italian and Lavinian Coast;
  Much o’er the Earth was He, and Ocean tost,
  By Heavenly Powers, and Juno’s lasting Rage;
  Much too He bore, long Wars compell’d to wage;
  E’er He the Town could raise, and of his Gods,
  In Latium settle the secure Abodes;
  Whence in a long Descent the Latins come,
  The Albine Fathers, and the Tow’rs of Rome.

Sept. 6. 1736.

I am, SIR, _&c._

* * * * *

P.S.

I Should not part with the Passage in Homer above-mentioned without observing that the Speech of Apollo’s Priest is wonderfully Peinturesque, and in Character.  We plainly see the Priest holding up his Hands, and pointing with his Crown and Sceptre to Heaven.

  “Princes! and Grecian Warriors! may the Gods
  (The Pow’rs that dwell in Heav’ns sublime Abodes)

It is a Priest that speaks, and his Audience is composed of Soldiers who had liv’d ten Years in a Camp.  He does not only put them in mind of the Gods, but likewise of the Place where they dwelt, and at the same time points up to it.  Neither is the Conclusion of the Speech less remarkable than the Beginning of it:  The Priest of Apollo does not end in an humble supplicant manner like a common Suitor; but he frankly offers his Presents, and threatens the Generals and Princes he addresses himself to, with the Vengeance of his God if they refuse his Request:  And he very artfully lets them know that his God is not a Deity of inferior Rank, but the Son of Jove; and that his Arrows reach from a great Distance.  The next Line to those last mentioned I cannot omit taking notice of, because it contains, in my Opinion, one of the most beautiful Expressions in all the poetical Language. To give to do a thing.