161 | 162 | 163 | 164 | 165 |
1 | 153 | 306 | 459 | 612 |
Slow rolls the car before the attending train,
Now whirling down the heavens, the golden day
Shot through the western clouds a dewy ray;
The grove they reach, where, from the sacred shade,
To Pallas thus the pensive hero pray'd:
"
Daughter of Jove! whose arms in thunder wield
The avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield;
Forsook by thee, in vain I sought thy aid
When booming billows closed above my bead;
Attend, unconquer'd maid! accord my vows,
Bid the Great hear, and pitying, heal my woes."
This heard Minerva, but forbore to fly
(By Neptune awed) apparent from the sky;
Stern god! who raged with vengeance, unrestrain'd.
Till great Ulysses hail'd his native land.
163
Page
Quick Jump
|