Classic Poem

But now the Hero of immortal Birth
Fells OEte 's Forests on the groaning Earth;
A Pile he builds; to Philoctetes' Care
He leaves his deathful Instruments of War;
To him commits those Arrows, which again
Shall see the Bulwarks of the Trojan Reign
The Son of Paearn lights the lofty Pyre,
High round the Structure climbs the greedy Fire;
Plac'd on the Top, thy nervous Shoulders spread
With the Nemaean Spoils, thy careless Head
Rais'd on the knotty Club, with Look Divine,
Here thou, dread Hero, of Celestial Line,
Wert stretch'd at Ease; as when a chearful Guest,
Wine crown'd thy Bowls, and Flow'rs thy Temples drest.
Now on all Sides the potent Flames aspire,
And crackle round those Limbs that mock the Fire:
A sudden Terror feiz'd th' immortal Host,
Who thought the World's profess'd Defender lost.
This when the Thund'rer saw, with Smiles he cries,
'Tis from your Fears, ye Gods, my Pleasures rise;
Joy swells my Breast, that my all-ruling Hand
O'er such a grateful People boasts Command,
That you my suff'ring Progeny wou'd aid;
Tho' to his Deeds this just Respect be paid,
Me you've oblig'd. Be all your Fears forborn,
Th' OEtean Fires do thou, great Hero, scorn.
Who vanquish'd all things, shall subdue the Flame.
That Part alone of gross maternal Frame
Fire shall devour; while what from me he drew
Shall live immortal, and its Force subdue;
That, when he's dead, I'll raise to Realms above;
May all the Pow'rs the righteous Act approve.
If any God dissent, and judge too great
The sacred Honours of the heav'nly Seat,
Ev'n he shall own his Deeds deserve the Sky,
Ev'n he reluctant, shall at length comply.
Th assembled Pow'rs assent. No Frown till now
Had mark'd with Passion vengeful Juno 's Brow.
Mean while whate'er was in the Pow'r of Flame
Was all consum'd; his Body's nervous Frame
No more was known, of human Form bereft,
Th' eternal Part of Jove alone was left.
As an old Serpent casts his scaly Vest,
Wreathes in the Sun, in youthful Glory drest;
So when Alcides mortal Mold resign'd,
His better Part enlarg'd, and grew refin'd;
August his Visage shone; Almighty Jove
In his swift Carr his honour'd Offspring drove;
High o'er the hollow Clouds the Coursers fly,
And lodge the Hero in the starry Sky.