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And hurl'd at Amycus; his chin is bent
Against his chest, and down the Centaur sent;
Whom sputtering bloody teeth, the second blow
Of his drawn sword dispatch'd to shades below.
"Grineus was near; and cast a furious look
On the side-altar, cens'd with sacred smoke,
And bright with flaming fires. The gods,' he
cry'd,
'Have with their holy trade our hands supply'd :
Why use we not their gifts?' Then from the floor
An altar-stone be heav'd, with all the load it bore:
Altar and altar's freight together flew
Where thickest throng'd the Lapithæan crew;
And, at once, Broteas and Oryus slew :
Oryus' mother, Mycale, was known

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Down from her sphere to draw the labouring Moon.
"Exadius cry'd, Unpunish'd shall not go
This fact, if arms are found against the foe.'
He look'd about, where on a pine were spread
The votive horns of a stag's branching head:
At Grineus these he throws; so just they fly,
That the sharp antlers stuck in either eye:
Breathless and blind he fell, with blood besmear'd,
His eye-balls, beaten out, hung dangling on his
beard.

Fierce Rhætus, from the hearth, a burning brand
Selects, and whirling waves; till from his hand
The fire took flame; then dash'd it from the right
On fair Charaxus' temples, near the sight:
The whistling pest came on, and pierc'd the bone
And caught the yellow hair, that shrivel'd while
it shone :

Caught, like dry stubble fir'd, or like seerwood;
Yet from the wound ensued no purple flood;
But look'd a bubbling mass of frying blood.
His blazing locks sent forth a crackling sound,
And hiss'd, like red hot ir'n within the smithy
drown'd.

The wounded warrior shook his flaming hair,
Then (what a team of horse could hardly rear)
He heaves the threshold-stone; but could not throw;
The weight itself forbad the threaten'd blow;
Which, dropping from his lifted arms, came down
Full on Cometes' head, and crush'd his crown.
Nor Rhætus then retain'd his joy: but said,
'So by their fellows may our foes be sped!'
Then with redoubled strokes he plies his head:
The burning lever not deludes his pains;
But drives the batter'd skull within the brains.
"Thus flush'd, the conqueror, with force re-
new'd,

Evagrus, Dryas, Corythus pursued:

First, Corythus, with downy cheeks, he slew ;
Whose fall when fierce Evagrus had in view,
He cry'd, What palm is from a beardless prey?'
Rhætus prevents what more he had to say;
And drove within his mouth the fiery death,
Which enter'd hissing in, and chok'd his breath.
At Dryas next he flew; but weary Chance
No longer would the same success advance.
But while he whirl'd in fiery circles round
The brand, a sharpen'd stake strong Dryas found;
And in the shoulder's joint inflicts the wound.
The weapon struck: which roaring out with pain
He drew nor longer durst the fight maintain,
But turn'd his back, for fear; and fled amain.
With him fled Orneus, with like dread possess'd;
Thaumas and Medon, wounded in the breast;
And Mermeros, in the late race renown'd,
Now limping ran, and tardy with his wound.

Pholus and Melaneus from fight withdrew,
And Abas maim'd, who boars encountering slew:
And Augur Astylos, whose art in vain
From fight dissuaded the four-footed train,
Now beat the hoof with Nessus on the plain;
But to his fellow cry'd, Be safely slow,
Thy death deferr'd is due to great Alcides' bow.'
"Mean time strong Dryas urg'd his chance so
That Lycidas, Areos, Imbreus feil;
[well,
All one by one, and fighting face to face:
Crenæus fled, to fail with more disgrace:
For, fearful, while he look'd behind, he bore
Betwixt his nose and front the blow before.
Amid the noise and tumult of the fray,
Snoring and drunk with wine, Aphidas lay.
Ev'n then the bowl within his hand he kept,
And on a bear's rough hide securely slept.
Him Phorbas with his flying dart transfix'd;
'Take thy next draught with Stygian waters mix'd,
And sleep thy fill,' th' insulting victor cy'd;
Surpriz'd with death unfelt, the Centaur dy'd;
The ruddy vomit, as he breath'd his soul,
Repass'd his throat, and fill'd his empty bowl.

"I saw Petræus' arms employ'd around A well-grown oak, to root it from the ground. This way, and that, he wrench'd the fibrous bands, The trunk was like a sapling in his hands, And still obey'd the bent: while thus he stood, Perithous' dart drove on, and nail'd him to the wood.

Lycus and Chromys fell, by him oppress'd:
Helops and Dictys added to the rest

A nobler palm: Helops, through either ear
Transfix'd, receiv'd the penetrating spear.
This Dictys saw; and, seiz'd with sudden fright,
Leapt headlong from the hill of steepy height;
And crush'd an ash beneath, that could not bear

his weight.

The shatter'd tree receives his fall, and strikes,
Within his full-blown paunch, the sharpen'd spikes.
Strong Aphareus had heav'd a mighty stone,
The fragment of a rock, and would have thrown;
But Theseus, with a club of harden'd oak,
The cubit-bone of the bold Centaur broke,
And left him maim'd; nor seconded the stroke:
Then leapt on tall Bianor's back, (who bore
No mortal burthen but his own, before)
Press'd with his knees his sides; the double man,
His speed with spurs increas'd, unwilling ran.
One hand the hero fasten'd on his locks;
His other ply'd him with repeated strokes.
The club hung round his ears and batter'd brows;
He falls; and, lashing up his heels, his rider throws.

"The same Herculean arms Nedymnus wound, And lay by him Lycotas on the ground; And Hippasus, whose beard his breast invades; And Ripheus, haunter of the woodland shades; And Tereus, us'd with mountain-bears to strive, And from their dens to draw th' indignant beasts alive.

"Demoleon could not bear this hateful sight, Or the long fortune of th' Athenian knight: But pull'd with all his force, to disengage Fromarth a pine, the product of an age: The root stuck fast: the broken trunk he sent At Theseus: Theseus frustrates his intent, And leaps aside, by Pallas warn'd, the blow To shun (for so he said; and we believ'd it so). Yet not in vain th'enormous weight was cast, Which Crantor's body sunder'd at the waist;

Thy father's squire, Achilles, and his care;
Whom conquer'd in the Delopeian war,
Their king, his present ruin to prevent,
A pledge of peace implor'd, to Peleus sent.
Thy sire, with grieving eyes, beheld his fate;
And cry'd, Not long, lov'd Crantor, shalt thou

wait

Thy vow'd revenge.' At once he said, and threw
His ashen-spear, which quiver'd as it flew,
With all his force and all his soul apply'd;
The sharp point enter'd in the Centaur's side:
Both hands, to wrench it out, the monster join'd;
And wrench'd it out; but left the steel behind.
Stuck in his lungs it stood: enrag'd he rears
His hoofs, and down to ground thy father bears.
Thus trampled under foot, his shield defends
His head; his other hand the lance protends.
Ev'n while he lay extended on the dust,
He sped the Centaur, with one single thrust.
Two more his lance before transfix'd from far;
And two his sword had slain in closer war.
To these was added Dorylas: who spread
A bull's two goring horns around his head.
With these he push'd; in blood already dy'd:
Him, fearless, I approach'd, and thus defy'd:
Now, mouster, now, by proof it shall appear,
Whether thy horns are sharper, or my spear.'
At this, I threw for want of other ward,
He lifted up his hand, his front to guard.
His hand it pass'd, and fix'd it to his brow:
Loud shouts of ours attend the lucky blow:
Him Peleus finish'd, with a second wound,
Which through the navel pierc'd: he reel'd around,
And dragg'd his dangling bowels on the ground:
Trod what he dragg'd, and what he trod he crush'd:
And to his mother-earth, with empty belly, rush'd.
"Nor could thy form, O Cyllarus, foreshow
Thy fate (if form to monsters men allow):
Just bloom'd thy beard, thy beard of golden hue:
Thy locks, in golden waves, about thy shoulders
flew.

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All day they hunted; and when day expir'd,
Together to some shady cave retir'd.
Invited, to the nuptials both repair:
And, side by side, they both engage in war.

"Uncertain from what hand, a flying dart
At Cyllarus was sent, which pierc'd his heart.
The javelin drawn from out the mortal wound,
He faints with staggering steps, and seeks the
ground:

The fair within her arms receiv'd his fall,
And strove his wandering spirits to recall :
And, while her hand the streaming blood oppos'd,
Join'd face to face, his ups with hers she clos'd.
Stifled with kisses, a sweet death he dies;
She fills the fields with undistinguish'd cries:
At least her words were in her clamour drown'd;
For my stunn'd ears receiv'd no vocal sound.
In madness of her grief she seiz'd the dart
New drawn, and reeking from her lover's heart;
To her bare bosom the sharp point apply'd,'
And wounded fell, and falling by his side, [dy'd.
Embrac'd him in her arms, and thus embracing
"Ev'n still, methinks, I see Phæocomes;
Strange was his habit, and as odd his dress..
Six lions hides, with thongs together fast,
His upper part defended to his waist;
And where man ended, the continued vest
Spread on his back the houss and trappings of a
beast.

A stump too heavy for a team to draw
(It seems a fable, though the fact I saw)
He threw at Pholon; the descending blow
Divides the skull, and cleaves his head in two.
The brains, from nose and mouth, and either ear,
Came issuing out, as through a colendar
The curdled milk: or from the press the whey,
Driven down by weights above, is drain'd away.

But him, while stooping down to spoil the slain,
Pierc'd through the paunch, I tumbled on the plain.
Then Chthonius and Teleboas I slew:
A fork the former arm'd; a dart his fellow threw,
The javelin wounded me (behold the scar).
Then was my time to seek the Trojan war;
Then I was Hector's match in open field;
But he was then unborn; at least a child;
Now, I am nothing. I forbear to tell
By Periphantes how Pyretus fell;
The Centaur by the knight: nor will I stay

So rose his brawny chest; so swiftly mov'd his On Amphix, or what deaths he dealt that day:

feet.

Coal-black his colour, but like jet it shone;
His legs and flowing tail were white alone,
Belov'd by many maidens of his kind,
But fair Hylonome possess'd his mind;
Hylonome, for features, and for face,
Excelling all the nymphs of double race:
Nor less her blandishments, than beauty, move;
At once both loving, and confessing love.
For him she dress'd; for him with female care
She comb'd, and set in curls her auburn hair.
Of roses, violets, and lilies mix'd,

And sprigs of flowing rosemary betwixt,
She form'd the chaplet, that adorn'd her front:
In waters of the Pegasæan fount,

And in the streams that from the fountain play,
She wash'd her face, and bath'd her twice a day.
The scarf of furs, that hung below her side,
Was ermin, or the panther's spotted pride:
Spoils of no common beast: with equal flame
They lov'd: their sylvan pleasures were the same:

What honour, with a pointless lance, he won,
Stuck in the front of a four-footed man.
What fame young Macareus obtain❜d in fight:
Or dwell on Nessus, now return'd from flight.
How prophet Mopsus not alone divin'd,
Whose valour equal'd his foreseeing mind.

"Already Caneus, with his conquering hand, Had slaughter'd five, the boldest of their band: Pyrachmus, Helymus, Antimachus,

Bromus the brave, and stronger Stiphelus:
Their names I number'd, and remember well,
No trace remaining, by what wounds they fell.
"Latreus, the bulkiest of the double race,
Whom the spoil'd arms of slain Halesus grace,
In years retaining still his youthful might,
Though his black hairs were interspers'd with
white,

Betwixt th' embattled ranks began to prance,
Proud of his helm, and Macedonian lance;
And rode the ring around; that either host
Might hear him, while he made this empty boast.

And from a strumpet shall we suffer shame?
For Canis still, not Cæneus is thy name:
And still the native sortness of thy kind
Prevails, and leaves the woman in thy mind.
Remember what thou wert: what price was paid
To change thy sex: to make thee not a maid;
And but a man in show: go, card and spin;
And leave the business of the war to men.'

"While thus the boaster exercis'd his pride,
The fatal spear of Cæneus reach'd his side:
Just in the mixture of the kinds it ran;
Betwixt the nether beast and upper man.

The monster, mad with rage, and stung with smart,
His lance directed at the hero's heart:

It strook; but bounded from his harden'd breast;
Like hail from tiles, which the safe house invest;
Nor seem'd the stroke with more effect to come,
Than a small pebble falling on a drum.
He next his fauchion try'd, in closer fight;
But the keen fauchion had no power to bite.
He thrust; the blunted point return'd again.
Since downright blows,' he cry'd, ' and thrusts are
vain,

I'll prove his side:' in strong embraces held,
He prov'd his side; his side the sword repell'd:
His hollow belly echo'd to the stroke;
Untouch'd his body, as a solid rock;

[broke. Aim'd at his neck at last, the blade in shivers "Th' impassive knight stood idle, to deride His rage, and offer'd oft his naked side:

At length, Now, monster, in thy turn,' he cry'd,
'Try thou the strength of Cæneus:' at the word
He thrust; and in his shoulder plung'd the sword.
Then writh'd his hand; and, as he drove it down,
Deep in his breast, made many wounds in one.
"The Centaurs saw, enrag'd, th' unhop'd success;
And rushing on, in crowds, together press;
At him, and him alone, their darts they threw :
Repuls'd they from his fated body flew.
Amaz'd they stood; till Monychus began,
'O shame! a nation conquer'd by a man!
A woman-man; yet more a man is he,

Than all our race; and what he was, are we.
Now, what avail our nerves? th' united force,
Of two the strongest creatures, man and horse:
Nor goddess-born, nor of Ixion's seed,
We seem, (a lover built for Juno's bed)
Master'd by this half man. Whole mountains

throw

With woods at once, and bury him below.
This only way remains. Nor need we doubt
To choak the soul within, though not to force it

out.

Heap weights, instead of wounds :' he chanc'd to see
Where southern storms had rooted up a tree;
This, rais'd from earth, against the foe he threw;
Th' example shown, his fellow brutes pursue.
With forest-loads the warrior they invade;
Othrys and Pelion soon were void of shade;
And spreading groves were naked mountains made.
Press'd with the burthen, Cæneus pants for breath;
And on his shoulders bears the wooden death.
To heave th' intolerable weight he tries;
At length it rose above his mouth and eyes;
Yet still he heaves, and, struggling with despair,
Shakes all aside, and gains a gulp of air:
A short relief, which but prolongs his pain;
He faints by fits; and then respires again:
At last, the burthen only nods above,

As when an earthquake stirs th' Idæan grove.

Doubtful his death: he suffocated seem'd
To most; but otherwise our Mopsus deem'd.
Who said, he saw a yellow bird arise
From out the pite, and cleave the liquid skies:
I saw it too: with golden feathers bright,
Nor c'er before beheld so strange a sight.
Whom Mopsus viewing, as it soar'd around

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Our troop, and heard the pinions rattling sound,
All hail,' he cry'd, thy country's grace and love;
Once first of men below, now first of birds above.'
Its author to the story gave belief;

For us, our courage was increas'd by grief:
Asham'd to see a single man, pursu'd
With odds, to sink beneath a multitude,
We push'd the foe, and forc'd to shameful fight;
Part feil; and part escap'd by favour of the night."
This tale, by Nestor told, did much displease
Tlepolemus, the seed of Hercules:

For, often he had heard his father say,
That he himself was present at the fray;
And more than shar'd the glories of the day.
"Old Chronicle," he said, "among the rest,
You might have nam'd Alcides at the least:
Is he not worth your praise?" The Pylian prince
Sigh'd ere he spoke; then made this proud defence.
My former woes, in long oblivion drown'd,

I would have lost; but you renew the wound:
Better to pass him o'er, than to relate
The cause I have your mighty sire to hate.
His fame has fill'd the world, and reach'd the sky;
(Which, oh, I wish, with truth, I could deny)!
We praise not Hector; though his name, we know,
Is great in arms; 'tis hard to praise a foe.

"He, your great father, level'd to the ground Messenia's towers: nor better fortune found Elis, and Pylas; that a neighbouring state, And this my own: both guiltless of their fate. "To pass the rest, twelve, wanting one, be

slew;

My brethren, who their birth from Neleus drew,
All youths of early promise, had they liv'd;
By him they perish'd: I alone surviv'd.
The rest were easy conquest: but the fate
Of Periclymenos is wondrous to relate.
To him our common grandsire of the main
Had given to change his form, and, chang'd, re-
sume again.

Vary'd at pleasure, every shape he try'd;
And in all beasts Alcides still defy'd:
Vanquish'd on Earth, at length he soar'd above;
Chang'd to the bird, that bears the bolt of Jove:
The new-dissembled eagle, now endu'd
With peak and pounces, Hercules pursu'd,
And cuff'd his manly cheeks, and tore his face;
Then, saf retir'd, and tour'd in empty space.
Alcides bore not long his flying foe,
But, bending his inevitable bow,
Reach'd him in air, suspended as he stood;
And in his pinion fix'd the feather'd wood.
Light was the wound; but in the sinew hung
The point; and his disabled wing unstrung.
He wheel'd in air, and stretch'd his vans in vain;
His vans no longer could his flight sustain:
For while one gather'd wind, one, unsupply'd,
Hung drooping down; nor pois'd his other side.
He fell: the shaft, that slightly was impress'd,
Now from his heavy fall with weight increas'd
Drove through his neck, aslant; he spurns the
ground,

And the soul issues through the weazon's wound.

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"Now, brave commander of the Rhodian seas, What praise is due from me to Hercules? Silence is all the vengeance I decree

For my slain brothers; but 'tis peace with thee."
Thus with a flowing tongue old Nestor spoke:
Then, to full bowls each other they provoke:
At length, with weariness and wine oppress'd,
They rise from table, and withdraw to rest.

The sire of Cygnus, monarch of the main,
Mean time, laments his son, in battle slain :
And vows the victor's death, nor vows in vain.
For nine long years the smother'd pain he bore
(Achilles was not ripe for fate before):

Then when he saw the promis'd hour was near,
He thus bespoke the god that guides the year.
"Immortal offspring of my brother Jove;
My brightest nephew, and whom best I love,
Whose hands were join'd with mine to raise the
wall

Of tottering Troy, now nodding to her fall;
Dost thou not mourn our power employ'd in vain,
And the defenders of our city slain?
To pass the rest, could noble Hector lie
Unpity'd, dragg'd around his native Troy?
And yet the murderer lives: himself by far
A greater plague, than all the wasteful war:
He lives; the proud Pelides lives, to boast
Our town destroy'd, our common labour lost!
O, could I meet him! But I wish too late;
To prove my trident, is not in his fate.
But let him try (for that's allow'd) thy dart,
And pierce his only penetrable part."

Apollo bows to the superior throne;
And to his uncle's anger adds his own.
Then, in a cloud involv'd, he takes his flight,
Where Greeks and Trojans mix'd in mortal fight;
And found out Paris lurking where he stood,
And stain'd his arrows with plebeian blood:
Phoebus to him alone the god confess'd,
Then to the recreant knight he thus address'd:
"Dost thou not blush, to spend thy shafts in vain
On a degenerate and ignoble train?
If fame, or better vengeance, be thy care,
There aim, and, with one arrow, end the war.
He said; and show'd from far the blazing shield
And sword, which but Achilles none could wield;
And how he mov'd a god and mow'd the standing
The deity himself directs aright
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Th' envenom'd shaft; and wings the fatal flight.
Thus fell the foremost of the Grecian name;
And he, the base adulterer, boasts the fame.
A spectacle to glad the Trojan train;
And please old Priam, after Hector slain.

If by a female hand he had foreseen

He was to die, his wish had rather been

Nor Menelaus presum'd these arms to claim,
Nor he the king of men, a greater name.
Two rivals only rose: Laertes' son,
And the vast bulk of Ajax Telamon.
The king, who cherish'd each with equal love,
And from himself all envy would remove,
Left both to be determin'd by the laws;
And to the Grecian chiefs transferr'd the cause.

THE SPEECHES OF AJAX AND ULYSSES.
FROM THE THIRTEENTH BOOK OF
OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.
THE chiefs were set, the soldiers crown'd the field:
To these the master of the sevenfold shield
Upstarted fierce, and, kindled with disdain,
Eager to speak, unable to contain

His boiling rage, he roll'd his eyes around
The shore, and Grecian galleys haul'd a-ground.
Then stretching out his hands, "O Jove," he cry'd,
"Must then our cause before the fleet be try'd?
And dares Ulysses for the prize contend,
In sight of what he durst not once defend?
But basely fled that memorable day,
When I from Hector's hands redeem'd the flaming
So much 'tis safer at the noisy bar
[prey.
With words to flourish, than engage in war.
By different methods we maintain'd our right,
Nor am I made to talk, nor he to fight.
In bloody fields I labour to be great;
His arms are a smooth tongue, and soft deceit.
Nor need I speak my deeds, for those you see ;
The Sun and day are witnesses for me.
Let him who fights unseen relate his own,
And vouch the silent stars and conscious Moon.
Great is the prize demanded, I confess,
But such an abject rival makes it less.
That gift, those honours, he but hop'd to gain,
Can leave no room for Ajax to be vain:
Losing he wins, because his name will be
Ennobled by defeat, who durst contend with me.
Were mine own valour question'd, yet my blood
Without that plea would make my title good:
My sire was Telamon, whose arms, employ'd
With Hercules, these Trojan walls destroy'd;
And who before, with Jason, sent from Greece,
In the first ship brought home the golden fleece:
Great Telamon from Eacus derives

His birth (th' inquisitor of guilty lives

In shades below; where Sisyphus, whose son This thief is thought, rolls up the restless heavy stone).

Just Eacus the king of gods above

The lance and double ax of the fair warrior queen. Begot: thus Ajax is the third from Jove.

And now, the terrour of the Trojan field,
The Grecian honour, ornament, and shield,
High on a pile, th' unconquer'd chief is plac'd:
The god, that arm'd him first, consum'd at last,
Of all the mighty man, the small remains
A little urn, and scarcely fill'd, contains.
Yet great in Homer, still Achilles lives;
And, equal to himself, himself survives.

His buckler owns its former lord; and brings
New cause of strife betwixt contending kings;
Who worthiest, after him, his sword to wield,
Or wear his armour, or sustain his shield.
Ev'n Diomede sate mute, with down-cast eyes;
Conscious of wonted worth to win the prize:

Nor should I seek advantage from my line,
Unless, Achilles, it were mix'd with thine:
As next of kin Achilles' arms I claim;
This fellow would ingraft a foreign name
Upon our stock, and the Sisyphian seed
By fraud and theft asserts his father's breed.
Then must I lose these arms, because I came
To fight uncall'd, a voluntary name?
Nor shunn'd the cause, but offer'd you my aid,
While he, long lurking, was to war betray'd:
Forc'd to the field he came, but in the rear;
And feign'd distraction to conceal his fear:
Till one more cunning caught him in the snare,
(Ill for himself) and dragg'd him into war.

Now let a hero's arms a coward vest,
And he, who shunn'd all honours, gain the best;
And let me stand excluded from my right,
Robb'd of my kinsman's arms, who first appear'd
in fight.

Better for us, at home he had remain❜d,

Had it been true the madness which he feign'd,
Or so believ'd; the less had been our shame,
The less his counsell'd crime, which brands the
Grecian name;

Nor Philoctetes had been left enclos'd
In a bare isle, to wants and pains expos'd,
Where to the rocks, with solitary groans,
His sufferings and our baseness he bemoans;
And wishes (so may Heaven his wish fulfil)
The due reward to him who caus'd his ill.
Now he, with us to Troy's destruction sworn,
Our brother of the war, by whom are borne
Alcides' arrows, pent in narrow bounds,
With cold and hunger pinch'd, and pain'd with
wounds,

To find him food and clothing, must employ
Against the birds the shafts due to the fate of
Troy.

Yet still he lives, and lives from treason free,
Because he left Ulysses' company:
Poor Palamede might wish, so void of aid
Rather to have been left, than so to death betray'd.
The coward bore the man immortal spite,
Who sham'd him out of madness into fight:
Nor, daring otherwise to vent his hate;
Accus'd him first of treason to the state;
And then for proof produc'd the golden store
Himself had hidden in his tent before:
Thus of two champions he depriv'd our host,
By exile one, and one by treason lost.
Thus fights Ulysses, thus his fame extends,
A formidable man, but to his friends:

Great, for what greatness is in words and sound:
Ev'n faithful Nestor less in both is found:
But that he might without a rival reign,
He left his faithful Nestor on the plain;
Forsook his friend ev'n at his utmost need,
Who, tir'd and tardy, with his wounded steed,
Cry'd out for aid, and call'd him by his name;
But Cowardice has neither ears nor shame :
Thus fled the good old man, bereft of aid,
And, for as much as lay in him, betray'd.
That this is not a fable forg'd by me,
Like one of his, an Ulyssean lie,

I vouch ev'n Diomede, who, though his friend,
Cannot that act excuse, much less defend :
He call'd him back aloud, and tax'd his fear;
And sure enough he heard, but durst not hear.
"The gods with equal eyes on mortals look;
He justly was forsaken, who forsook:
Wanted that succour he refus'd to lend,
Found every fellow such another friend :
No wonder, if he roar'd that all might hear,
His elocution was increas'd by fear:

I heard, I ran, I found him out of breath,
Pale, trembling, and half dead with fear of death.
Though he had judg'd himself by his own laws,
And stood condemn'd, I help'd the common cause:
With my broad buckler hid him from the foe,
(Ev'n the shield trembling as he lay below)
And from impending fate the coward freed:
Good Heaven forgive me for so bad a deed!
If still he will persist, and urge the strife,
First let him give me back his forfeit life:

Let him return to that opprobrious field;
Again creep under my protecting shield:
Let him lie wounded, let the foe be near,
And let his quivering heart confess his fear;
There put him in the very jaws of Fate;
And let him plead his cause in that estate:
And yet, when snatch'd from Death, when from
below

My lifted shield I loos'd and let him go, [bound
Good Heavens, how light he rose, with what a
He sprung from Earth, forgetful of his wound :
How fresh, how eager then his feet to ply;
Who had not strength to stand, had speed to fly!
Hector came on, and brought the gods along;
Fear seiz'd alike the feeble and the strong:
Each Greek was an Ulysses; such a dread
Th' approach, and ev'n the sound, of Hector bred:
Him, fleshed with slaughter, and with conquest
crown'd,

I met, and over-turn'd him to the ground.
When after, matchless as he deem'd in might,
He challeng'd all our host to single fight.
All eyes were fix'd on me: the lots were thrown;
But for your champion I was wish'd alone: [yield;
Your vows were heard; we fought, and neither
Yet I return'd unvanquish'd from the field.
With Jove to friend th' insulting Trojan came,
And menac'd us with force, our fleet with flame:
Was it the strength of this tongue-valiant lord,
In that black hour that sav'd you from the sword?
Or was my breast expos'd alone, to brave
A thousand swords, a thousand ships to save?
The hopes of your return! and can you yield,
For a sav'd fleet, less than a single shield?
Think it no boast, O Grecians, if I deem
These arms want Ajax, more than Ajax them;
Or, I with them an equal honour share;
They honour'd to be worn, and I to wear.
Will he compare my courage with his flight?
As well he may compare the day with night.
Night is indeed the province of his reign:
Yet all his dark exploits no more contain,
Than a spy taken, and a sleeper slain;
A priest made prisoner, Pallas made a prey:
But none of all these actions done by day:
Nor aught of these was done and Diomede away.
If on such petty merits you confer

So vast a prize, let each his portion share;
Make a just dividend; and if not all,
The greater part to Diomede will fall.
But why for Ithacus such arms as those,
Who naked and by night invades his foes?
The glittering helm by moonlight will proclaim
The latent robber, and prevent his game :
Nor could he hold his tottering head upright
Beneath that motion, or sustain the weight;
Nor that right arm could toss the beamy lance;
Much less the left that ampler shield advance,
Ponderous with precious weight, and rough with
Of the round world in rising gold emboss'd. [cost
That orb would ill become his hand to wield,
And look as for the gold he stole the shield;
Which should your errour on the wretch bestow,
It would not frighten, but allure the foe:
Why asks he, what avails him not in fight,
And would but cumber and retard his flight,
In which his only excellence is plac'd?
You give him death, that intercept his haste.
Add, that his own is yet a maiden-shield,
Nor the least dint has suffer'd in the field,

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