set-screw

Item No. comdagen-6602032538168854962
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massy caldron of stupendous frame They brought, and placed it o'er the rising flame: Then heap'd the lighted wood; the flame divides Beneath the vase, and climbs around the sides: In its wide womb they pour the rushing stream; The boiling water bubbles to the brim. The body then they bathe with pious toil, Embalm the wounds, anoint the limbs with oil, High on a bed of state extended laid, And decent cover'd with a linen shade; Last o'er the dead the milk-white veil they thre

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may the Greeks review their native shore, Much famed for generous steeds, for beauty more." He said. The challenge Hector heard with joy, Then with his spear restrain'd the youth of Troy, Held by the midst, athwart; and near the foe Advanced with steps majestically slow: While round his dauntless head the Grecians pour Their stones and arrows in a mingled shower. Then thus the monarch, great Atrides, cried: "Forbear, ye warriors! lay the darts aside: A parley Hector asks, a message bears; We know him by the various plume he wears." Awed by his high command the Greeks attend, The tumult silence, and the fight suspend. While from the centre Hector rolls his eyes On either host, and thus to both applies: "Hear, all ye Trojan, all ye Grecian bands, What Paris, author of the war, demands. Your shining swords within the sheath restrain, And pitch your lances in the yielding plain. Here in the midst, in either army's sight, He dares the Spartan king to single fight; And wills that Helen and the ravish'd spoil, That caused the contest, shall reward the toil. Let these the brave triumphant victor grace, And different nations part in leagues of peace." He spoke: in still suspense on either side Each army stood: the Spartan chief replied: "Me too, ye warriors, hear, whose fatal right A world engages in the toils of fight. To me the labour of the field resign; Me Paris injured; all the war be mine. Fall he that must, beneath his rival's arms; And live the rest, secure of future harms. Two lambs, devoted by your country's rite, To earth a sable, to the sun a white, Prepare, ye Trojans! while a third we bring Select to Jove, the inviolable king. Let reverend Priam in the truce engage, And add the sanction of considerate age; His sons are faithless, headlong in debate, And youth itself an empty wavering state; Cool age advances, venerably wise, Turns on all hands its deep-discerning eyes;