110
Poems on
Rais'd at his Call, a chosen Synod stand
Before the Gates; haste Nestor, haste away.
Before the Gates; haste Nestor, haste away.
To whom the Sage well pleas'd, In such brave hands
No Greek will envy Pow'r; with loyal Joy
Subjects Obey, when Men of Worth Command.
No Greek will envy Pow'r; with loyal Joy
Subjects Obey, when Men of Worth Command.
He added not, but o'er his manly Breast
Flung a rich Robe; beneath his royal Feet
The glitt'ring Sandals shone: a soft, large Vest
Florid with purple Wool, his aged Limbs
Graceful adorn'd: tipt with a Star of Brass
A pond'rous Lance he grasp'd, and strode away
To wake sage Ithacus: aloud his Voice
He rais'd; his Voice was heard, and from his Tent
Instant Ulysses sprung; and why, he cry'd,
Why thus abroad in the chill Hours of Night?
Flung a rich Robe; beneath his royal Feet
The glitt'ring Sandals shone: a soft, large Vest
Florid with purple Wool, his aged Limbs
Graceful adorn'd: tipt with a Star of Brass
A pond'rous Lance he grasp'd, and strode away
To wake sage Ithacus: aloud his Voice
He rais'd; his Voice was heard, and from his Tent
Instant Ulysses sprung; and why, he cry'd,
Why thus abroad in the chill Hours of Night?
What
