BUT now the other  Chiefs return,
And on their smoking Altars Off'rings burn;
Their useless Arms they consecrate to Peace,
And  Spoils the  Temples grace:
Each youthful Bride some pleasing Gift affords,
To welcome home their safe-returning Lords;
Their safe-returning Lords, in Songs of Joy,
Resound the vanquish'd Fates of ruin'd
The wond'ring Sages crowd around to hear,
The trembling Girls admire the Tales of War:
The Wives stand list'ning, while their Husbands tell,
How  had conquer'd, and how  fell:
One stains a Table with the purple Draught,
And shews the furious Battles, which you fought;
Paints, with the Wine, which from the Glass he pours,
Camps, Rivers, Hills, and all the  Tow'rs:
And, This, says he, is the  Plain;
And here the silver  rolls his Train;
There stood old PRIAM's stately Palace, here
ACHILLES pitch'd his Tent, ULYSSES there:
Here mangled HECTOR, dreadful in his Fall,
Affrights the Steeds, that drag him round the Wall.
Your Son, who sent by me to NESTOR's Court,
To seek his Father, brought me this Report
From NESTOR's Mouth, and how the  Lord,
In Sleep, became a Victim to your Sword;
How DOLON fell into your crafty Snare —
But, O! ULYSSES, you too boldly dare;
Too fearless, thro' the Camp of Foes you rove,
Mindful of Wiles, forgetful of your Love;
Slaying so many in the gloomy Night,
One Friend alone, to aid you in the Fight.
It was not thus you rashly us'd to go
Among the midnight Terrors of the Foe;
Fondly of me you formerly have thought,
With Prudence acted, and with Caution fought.
Heav'n knows, with Fear my trembling Bosom beat,
To hear my Son your daring Deeds relate;
Till told how you victoriously return'd,
Safe, to your Camp, with  Spoils adorn'd.