Book viii

. Line 1._

As full-blown poppies, overcharg'd with rain, Decline the head, and drooping kiss the plain,-- So sinks the youth; his beauteous head, deprest Beneath his helmet, drops upon his breast.

_The Iliad of Homer. Book viii . Line 371._

Who dares think one thing, and another tell, My heart detests him as the gates of hell.[338-2]

_The Iliad of Homer.