And thither bring their undulating sound; } The palace of loud fame; her seat of power, Placed on the summit of a lofty tower. A thousand winding entries, long and wide, Receive of fresh reports a flowing tide; A thousand crannies in the walls are made; Nor gate nor bars exclude the busy trade. 'Tis built of brass, the better to diffuse The spreading sounds, and multiply the news; Where echoes in repeated echoes play: A mart for ever full, and open night and day. Nor silence is within, nor voice express, But a deaf noise of sounds that never cease; Confused, and chiding, like the hollow roar Of tides, receding from the insulted shore; Or like the broken thunder, heard from far, When Jove to distance drives the rolling war. The courts are filled with a tumultuous din Of crowds, or issuing forth, or entering in; A thorough-fare of news; where some devise Things never heard; some mingle truth with lies; The troubled air with empty sounds they beat; Intent to hear, and eager to repeat. Error sits brooding there, with added train Of vain credulity, and joys as vain; Suspicion, with sedition joined, are near; And rumours raised, and murmurs mixed, and panic fear. Fame sits aloft, and sees the subject ground, And seas about, and skies above, enquiring all around. The goddess gives the alarm; and soon is known The Grecian fleet, descending on the town. Fixed on defence, the Trojans are not slow To guard their shore from an expected foe. They meet in fight; by Hector's fatal hand Protesilaus falls, and bites the strand; Which with expence of blood the Grecians won, And proved the strength unknown of Priam's son; And to their cost the Trojan leaders felt The Grecian heroes, and what deaths they dealt. From these first onsets, the Sigæan shore Was strewed with carcases, and stained with gore. Neptunian Cygnus troops of Greeks had slain; Achilles in his car had scoured the plain, And cleared the Trojan ranks; where'er he fought, Cygnus, or Hector, through the fields he sought: Cygnus he found; on him his force essayed; For Hector was to the tenth year delayed. His white-maned steeds, that bowed beneath the yoke, He cheered to courage, with a gentle stroke; Then urged his fiery chariot on the foe, And rising shook his lance, in act to throw. But first he cried,--O youth, be proud to bear Thy death, ennobled by Pelides' spear.-- The lance pursued the voice without delay; Nor did the whizzing weapon miss the way, But pierced his cuirass, with such fury sent, And signed his bosom with a purple dint. At this the seed of Neptune;--Goddess-born, For ornament, not use, these arms are worn; This helm, and heavy buckler, I can spare, As only decorations of the war;