106
Poems on
Is but exalted Dust; and when great Jove
Call'd us to Life, and gave us royal Pow'r,
He gave a sad Preheminence of Woes.
Call'd us to Life, and gave us royal Pow'r,
He gave a sad Preheminence of Woes.
He spoke, and to the Tent of Nestor turns
His Step majestic: on his Couch he found
The hoary Warrior; all around him lay
His Arms, the Shield, the Spears, the radiant Helm,
And Scarf of various Dye; with these array'd,
The reverend Father to the Field of Fame
Led his bold Files; for with a brave Disdain,
Old as he was, he scorn'd the Ease of Age,
His Step majestic: on his Couch he found
The hoary Warrior; all around him lay
His Arms, the Shield, the Spears, the radiant Helm,
And Scarf of various Dye; with these array'd,
The reverend Father to the Field of Fame
Led his bold Files; for with a brave Disdain,
Old as he was, he scorn'd the Ease of Age,
Sudden the Monarch starts, and half uprais'd,
Thus to the King aloud; What art thou, say?
Why in the Camp alone? while others sleep,
Why wand'rest thou obscure the midnight Hours?
Thus to the King aloud; What art thou, say?
Why in the Camp alone? while others sleep,
Why wand'rest thou obscure the midnight Hours?
Seek'st
