moved; The sceptred kings of Greece his words approved. Meanwhile, convened at Priam's palace-gate, The Trojan peers in nightly council sate; A senate void of order, as of choice: Their hearts were fearful, and confused their voice. Antenor, rising, thus demands their ear: "Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliars, hear! 'Tis heaven the counsel of my breast inspires, And I but move what every god requires: Let Sparta's treasures be this hour restored, And Argive Helen own her ancient lord. The ties of faith, the sworn alliance, broke, Our impious battles the just gods provoke. As this advice ye practise, or reject, So hope success, or dread the dire effect." The senior spoke and sate. To whom replied The graceful husband of the Spartan bride: "Cold counsels, Trojan, may become thy years But sound ungrateful in a warrior's ears: Old man, if void of fallacy or art, Thy words express the purpose of thy heart, Thou, in thy time, more sound advice hast given; But wisdom has its date, assign'd by heaven. Then hear me, princes of the Trojan name! Their treasures I'll restore, but not the dame; My treasures too, for peace, I will resign; But be this bright possession ever mine." 'Twas then, the growing discord to compose, Slow from his seat the reverend Priam rose: His godlike aspect deep attention drew: He paused, and these pacific words ensue: "Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliar bands! Now take refreshment as the hour demands; Guard well the walls, relieve the watch of night. Till the new sun restores the cheerful light. Then shall our herald, to the Atrides sent, Before their ships proclaim my son's intent. Next let a truce be ask'd, that Troy may burn Her slaughter'd heroes, and their bones inurn; That done, once more the fate of war be tried, And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide!" The monarch spoke: the warriors snatch'd with haste (Each at his post in arms) a short repast. Soo