panted on her breast. The sire superior smiled, and bade her show What heavenly hand had caused his daughter's woe? Abash'd, she names his own imperial spouse; And the pale crescent fades upon her brows. Thus they above: while, swiftly gliding down, Apollo enters Ilion's sacred town; The guardian-god now trembled for her wall, And fear'd the Greeks, though fate forbade her fall. Back to Olympus, from the war's alarms, Return the shining bands of gods in arms; Some proud in triumph, some with rage on fire; And take their thrones around the ethereal sire. Through blood, through death, Achilles still proceeds, O'er slaughter'd heroes, and o'er rolling steeds. As when avenging flames with fury driven On guilty towns exert the wrath of heaven; The pale inhabitants, some fall, some fly; And the red vapours purple all the sky: So raged Achilles: death and dire dismay, And toils, and terrors, fill'd the dreadful day. High on a turret hoary Priam stands, And marks the waste of his destructive hands; Views, from his arm, the Trojans' scatter'd flight, And the near hero rising on his sight! No stop, no check, no aid! With feeble pace, And settled sorrow on his aged face, Fast as he could, he sighing quits the walls; And thus descending, on the guards he calls: "You to whose care our city-gates belong, Set wide your portals to the flying throng: For lo! he comes, with unresisted sway; He comes, and desolation marks his way! But when within the walls our troops take breath, Lock fast the brazen bars, and shut out death." Thus charged the reverend monarch: wide were flung The opening folds; the sounding hinges rung. Phoebus rush'd forth, the flying bands to meet; Struck slaughter back, and cover'd the retreat, On heaps the Trojans crowd to gain the gate, And gladsome see their last escape from fate. Thither, all parch'd with thirst, a heartless train, Hoary with dust, they beat the hollow pl