The good old Priam welcom'd her, and cry'd,
"Approach my child, and grace thy father's side,
See on the plain thy Grecian spouse appears,
The friends and kindred of thy former years.
No crime of thine our present suff'rings draws,
Not thou, but Heav'ns disposing will, the cause;
The gods those armies and this force employ,
The hostile gods conspire the fate of Troy."
No comments:
Post a Comment