Chapter 21

“Perhaps you may of Priam’s fate enquire. He, when he saw his regal town on fire, His ruin’d palace, and his ent’ring foes, On ev’ry side inevitable woes, In arms, disus’d, invests his limbs, decay’d, Like them, with age; a late and useless aid. His feeble shoulders scarce the weight sustain; Loaded, not arm’d, he creeps along with pain, Despairing of success, ambitious to be slain! Uncover’d but by heav’n, there stood in view An altar; near the hearth a l…