So lies a bull beneath the lion's paws,
While the grim favage grinds with foamy jaws
The trembling limbs, and fucks the imoking
blood;
600[the wood.
Deep groans, and hollow roars, re-bellow through
Then to the leader of the Lycian band
The dying chief addrefs'd his laft command:
Glaucus, be bold; thy task be first to dare
The glorious dangers of deftructive war,
To lead my troops, to combat at their head,
In cite the living, and fupply the dead.
Tell them, I charg'd them with my latest breath
Not unreveng'd to bear Sarpedon's death.
What grief, what fhame, muft Glaucus undergo, 610
If thefe fpoil'd arms adorn a Grecian foe!
Then as a friend, and as a warrior, fight;
Defend my body, conquer in my right;
That, taught by great examples, all may try
Like thee to vanquish, or like me to die
He ceas'd; the Fates fupprefs'd his labouring
breath,
And his eyes darken'd with the fhades of death.
Th' infulting victor with difdain beitrodu
The proftrate prince, and on his bofom trod;
Then drew the weapon from his panting heart,620
The reeking fibres clinging to the dart;
From the wide wound guih'd out a ftream
blood,
Breathe their brave fouls out in another's war.
See! where in duft the great Sarpedon lies,
In action valiant, and in council wife,
Who guarded right, and kept his people free;
To all his Lycians loft, and loft to thee!
665
Stretch'd by Patroclus' arm on yonder plains,
O fave from hoftile rage his lov'd remains:
Ah let not Greece his conquer'd trophies boast,
Nor on his coft revenge her heroes loft.
He fpoke; each leader in his grief partook, 670
Troy, at the lofs, through all her legions fhook.
Transfix'd with deep regret, they view o'erthrown
At once his country's pillar, and their own;
A chief, who led to Troy's beleaguer'd wall
A host of heroes, and out-fhin'd them all.
Fir'd they rush on; firft Hector feeks the foes,
And with fuperior vengeance greatly glows.
But o'er the dead the fierce Patroclus ftands,
And, rouzing Ajax, rouz'd the liftening bands:
Heroes, be men! be what you were before; 680
Or weigh the great occafion, and be more.
The chief who taught our lofty walls to yield,
Lies pale in death, extended on the field.
To guard his body, Troy in numbers flies;
'Tis half the glory to maintain our prize.
Hafte, ftrip his arms, the flaughter round him
And fend the living Lycians to the dead. [spread,
The heroes kindle at his fierce command;
625 The martial squadrons clofe on either hand :
Here Troy and Lycia charge with loud alarms, 690
Theffalia there, and Greece, oppose their arms.
With horrid fhouts they circle round the flain;
The clash of armour rings o'er all the plain.
Great Jove, to fwell the horrors of the fight,
O'er the fierce armies pours pernicious night; 695
And round his fon confounds the warring hosts,
His fate ennobling with a crowd of ghosts.
And the foul iffued in the purple flood.
His flying feeds the Myrmidons detain,
Unguided now, their mighty mafter flain.
All-impotent of aid, transfix'd with grief,
Unhappy Glaucus heard the dying chief.
His painful arm, yet ufeleis with the fmart
Inflicted late by Teucer's deadly dart,
Supported on his better hand he stay'd;
To Phabus then, ('twas all he could) he pray'd
All-feeing monarch whether Lycia's coaft,
Or facred lion, thy bright prefence boast,
Powerful alike to cafe the wretch's fmart!
O hear me ! God of every healing art! 635
Lo! ftiff with clotted blood, and pierc'd with
pain,
That thrills my arm, and fhoots thro' every vein,
I ftand, unable to fuftain the fpear,
And figh, at distance from the glorious war.
Low in the duft is great Sarpedon laid,
Nor Jove vouchfaf'd his hapless offspring aid.
But thou, O God of Health! thy fuccour lend,
To guard the reliques of my flaughtered friend.
For thou, though diftant, cant reftore my might,
To head my Lycians, and fupport the fight. 645
Apollo heard; and, fuppliant as he stood,
His heavenly hand reftrain'd the flux of blood:
He drew the dolours from the wounded part,
And breath'd a fpirit in his rifing heart:
Renew'd by art divine, the hero ftands,
And owns th' affiftance of immortal hands.
First to the fight his native troops he warms,
Then loudly calls on Troy's vindictive arms:
With ample frides he ftalks from place to place;
Now fires Agenor, now Polydamas;
Eneas next, and Hector, he accofts;
Now Greece gives way, and great Epigeus falls;
Agacleus' fon, from Budium's lofty walls:
Who, chas'd for murder thence, a fuppliant came 700
To Peleus and the filvet-footed dame;
Now fent to Troy, Achilles' arms to aid,
He pays due vengeance to his kinfman's fhade.
Soon as his lucklefs hand had touch'd the dead,
A rock's large fragment thunder'd on his head; 705
Hurl'd by Hectorean force, it cleft in twain
His hatter'd helm, and ftretch'd him o'er the
flain,
Fierce to the van of fight Patroclus came;
And, like an eagle darting at his game,
Sprung on the Trojan and the Lycian band; 710
What grief thy heart, what fury urg'd thy hand,
Oh generous Greck! when with full vigour thrown
At Sthenelaus flew the weighty stone,
650 Which funk him to the dead: when Troy, too
(715
What thoughts, regardless chief! thy employ?
That arm, drew back; and Hector learn'd to fear.
Far as an able hand a lance can throw,
Or at the lifts, or at the fighting foe;
So far the Trojans from their lines retir'd;
Till Glaucus, turning, all the rest inspir'd.
Then Bathyclaus fell beneath his rage,
breaft The only hope of Chalcon's trembling age:
Wide o'er the land was ftretch'd his large domain,
With stately feats, and riches, bleft in vain
Indaming thus the rage of all their hofts:
Oh too forgetful of the friends of Troy !
Him, bold with youth, and eager to pursue
The flying Lycians, Glaucus met, and flew; 725
Pierc'd through the bofom with a fudden wound,
He fell, and, falling, made the fields refound.
Th' Achaians forrow for their hero flain;
With conquering fhouts the Trojans thake the
plain,
[730
And crowd to spoil the dead: the Greeks oppose;
An iron circle round the carcafe grows,
Then brave Laogonus refign'd his breath,
Difpatch'd by Merion to the fhades of death:
On Ida's holy hill he made abode,
This inftant fee his short-liv'd trophies won,
And ftretch him breathless on his flaughter'd
fon;
Or yet, with many a foul's untimely flight, 790
Augment the fame and horror of the fight.
To crown Achilles' valiant friend with praise
At length he dooms; and, that his last of days
Shall fet in glory, bids him drive the foe;
Nor unattended fee the fhades below.
Then Hector's mind he fills with dire difmay;
He mounts his car, and calls his hofts away,
Sunk with Troy's heavy fates, he fees decline
The priest of Jove, and honour'd like his God. 735 The fcales of Jove, and pants with awe divine.
Between the jaw and ear the javelin went:
The foul, exhaling, iffued at the vent.
His fpear Æneas at the victor threw,
Who flooping forward from the death withdrew;
The lance hifs'd harmless o'er his covering fhield,
740
And trembling ftruck and rooted in the field;
There yet scarce spent, it quivers on the plain,
Sent by the great Æneas' arm in vain.
Swift as thou art (the raging hero cries)
And skill'd in dancing to difpute the prize,
My fpear, the deftin'd paffage had it found,
Had fix'd thy active vigour to the ground.
Oh valiant leader of the Dardan hoft!
(Infulted Merion thus retorts the boaft)
Strong as you are, 'tis mortal force you trust, 750
An arm as ftrong may ftretch thee in the duft.
And if to this my lance thy fate be given,
Vain are thy vaunts; fuccess is still from Heaven:
This inftant fends thee down to Pluto's coaft;
Mine is the glory, his thy parting ghost.
O friend (Menatius' fon this anfwer gave)
With words to combat, ill befits the brave;
Not empty boasts the fons of Troy repel,
Your fwords niuft plunge them to the fhades
hell.
To speak, befeems the council: but to dare
In glorious action, is the talk of war.
This faid, Patroclus to the battle flies;
Great Merion follows, and new shouts arife:
Shields, helmets rattle, as the warriors clofe;
And thick and heavy found the storm of blows. 765
As thro' the thrilling vale, or mountain ground,
The labours of the woodman's axe refound;
Blows following blows are heard re-echoing wide,
While crackling forefts fall on every fide:
Thus echo'd all the fields with loud alarms,
So fell the warriors, and fo rung their arms.
Now great Sarpedon on the fandy shore,
His heavenly form defac'd with duft and gore,
And stuck with darts by warring heroes thed,
Lies undiftinguifh'd from the vulgar dead.
His long-difputed corfe the chiefs enclose,
On every fide the bufy combat grows;
Thick as beneath some shepherd's thatch'd abode
(The pails high-foaming with a milky flood)
The buzzing flies, a perfevering train,
Inceffant fwarm, and chas'd return again.
Jove view'd the combat with a stern survey,
And eyes that flash'd intolerable day.
Fix'd on the field his fight, his breast debates
The vengeance due, and meditates the fates: 785
Whether to urge their prompt effect, and call
The force of Hector to Patroclus' fall,
Then, or before, the hardy Lycians fled, 800
And left their monarch with the common dead:
Around, in heaps on heaps, a dreadful wall-
Of carnage rifes, as the heroes fall,
(So Jove decreed!) at length the Greeks obtain
The prize contested, and defpoil the flain.
805
The radiant arms are by Patroclus borne,
Patroclus' fhips the glorious fpoils adorn.
Then thus to Phoebus, in the realms above,
Spoke from his throne the Cloud-compelling Jove:
Defcend, my Phoebus! on the Phrygian plain, 810
And from the fight convey Sarpedon flain;
Then bathe his body in the crystal flood:
With duft difhonour'd, and deform'd with blood:
O'er all his limbs celeftial odours fhed,
And with celeftial robes adorn the dead.
Those rites difcharg'd, his facred corfe bequeath
To the foft arms of filent Sleep and Death.
They to his friends the mournful charge shall bear,
His friends a tomb and pyramid shall rear;
What honours mortals after death receive,
820
Thofe unavailing honours we may give!
Apollo bows, and from mount Ida's height
Swift to the field precipitates his flight;
Thence from the war the breathless hero bore,
Veil'd in a cloud, to filver Simoïs' fhore;
825
There bath'd his honourable wounds, and drest
His manly members in th' immortal veft;
And with perfumes of fweet ambrofial dews,
Reftores his freshness, and his form renews. [830
Then Sleep and Death, two twins of winged race,
Of matchlefs fwiftnefs, but of filent pace,
Receiv'd Sarpedon, at the God's command,
And in a moment reach'd the Lycian land;
The corfe amidit his weeping friends they laid,
Where endless honours wait the facred fhade. 835
Mean while Patroclus pours along the plains,
With foaming courfers, and with loosen'd reins.
Fierce on the Trojan and the Lycian crew,
Ah blind to fate! thy headlong fury flew:
Against what Fate and powerful Jove ordain, 840
Vain was thy friend's command, thy courage vain;
For he, the God, whofe counfels uncontrol'd
Difmay the mighty, and confound the bold;
The God who gives, refumes, and orders all,
He urg'd thee on, and urg'd thee on to fall. 845
Who first, brave hero! by that arm was flain,
Who laft, beneath thy vengeance, prefs'd the
When Heaven itself thy fatal fury led, [plain;
And call'd to fill the number of the dead?
Adreftus firft; Autonoüs then fucceeds;
Echeclus follows; next young Megas bleeds :
Epiftor, Melanippus, bite the ground:
The flaughter, Elafus and Mulius crown'd;
Then funk Pylartes to eternal night;
The reft, difperfing, truft their fates to flight. 855
Now Troy had stoop'd beneath his matchlefs
power,
Stern Hector faftens on the warrior's head,
And by the foot Patroclus drags the dead.
While all around, confusion, rage, and fright, 920
Mix the contending hosts in mortal fight.
So, pent by hills, the wild winds roar aloud
In the deep bofom of fome gloomy wood;
Leaves, arms, and trees, aloft in air are blown,
The broad oaks crackle, and the Sylvans groan; 925
This way and that the rattling thicket bends,
And the whole foreft in one crash defcends.
Not with lefs noife, with lefs tumultuous rage,
In dreadful fhock the mingled hofts engage.
Darts fhower'd on darts, now round the carcafe
ring;
939
Now flights of arrows bounding from the string:
Stones follow ftones; fome clatter on the fields,
Some, hard and heavy, shake the founding fhields.
But where the rifing whirlwind clouds the
plains,
Sunk in foft duft the mighty chief remains, 935
And, ftretch'd in death, forgets the guiding
reins!
Now, flaming from the zenith, Sol had driven His fervid orb through half the vault of heaven; While on each hoft with equal tempeft fell
The fhowering darts, and numbers funk to hell. 940 But when his evening wheels o'erhung the main, 880 Glad conqueft refted on the Grecian train.
But flaming Phabus kept the facred tower,
Thrice at the battlements Patroclus ftrook,
His blazing ægis thrice Apollo fhook:
Hetry'd the fourth; when burfling from the cloud,
A more than mortal voice was heard aloud:
Patroclus! ceafe; this heaven-defended wall
Defies thy lance; not fated yet to fall;
Thy friend, thy greater far, it fhall withstand:
Troy fhall not ftoop ev'n to Achilles' hand. 865
So fpoke the God who darts celeftial fires;
The Greek obeys him, and with awe retires:
While Hector, checking at the Scæan gates
His panting courfers, in his breast debates,
Or in the field his forces to employ,
Or draw the troops within the walls of Troy.
Thus while he thought, befide him Phoebusftood,
In Afius' fhape, who reign'd by Sangar's flood;
(Thy brother, Hecuba! from Dymas fprung,
A valiant warrior, haughty, bold, and young.) 875
Thus he accofts him: What a fhameful fight!
Gods! is it Hector that forbears the fight?
Were thine my vigour, this fuccessful spear
Should foon convince thee of fo falfe a fear.
Turn then, ah turn thee to the field of fame,
And in Patroclus' blood efface thy shame.
Perhaps Apollo fhall thy arms fucceed,
And Heaven ordains him by thy lance to bleed.
So fpoke th' infpiring God; then took his flight,
And plung'd amids the tumult of the fight. 885
He bids Cebrion drive the rapid car;
The lafh refounds, the courfers rush to war:
The God the Grecians' finking fouls depreft,
And pour'd fwift fpirits through each Trojan breaft.
Patroclus lights, impatient for the fight; 890
A fpear his left, a flone employs his right:
With all his nerves he drives it at the foe;
Pointed above, and rough and grofs below:
The falling ruin crush'd Cebrion's head,
The lawless offspring of king Priam's bed;
His front, brows, eyes, one undiftinguish'd wound:
The burfling balls drop fightlefs to the ground.
The charioteer, while yet he held the rein,
Struck from the car, falls headlong on the plain.
To the dark fhades the foul unwilling glides; 900
While the proud victor thus his fall derides:
Good heavens! what active feats yon artift
fhows!
What skilful divers are our Phrygian foes!
Mark with what ease they fink into the fand!
Pity! that all their practice is by land!
Then, rufhing forward on his proftrate prize, To spoil the carcafe fierce Patroclus flies: Swift as a lion, terrible and bold, That sweeps the fields, depopulates the fold; Pierc'd through the dauntless heart, then tumbles flain;
And from his fatal courage finds his bane.
At once bold Hector leaping from his car,
Defends the body, and provokes the war.
Thus for fome Daughter'd hind, with equal rage,
Two lordly rulers of the wood engage;
Stung with fierce hunger, each the prey invades,
And echoing roars rebellow through the fhades.
Then, from amidst the tumult and alarms,
They draw the conquer'd corfe, and radiant arms.
Then rafh Patroclus with new fury glows,
And, breathing flaughter, pours amid the foes.
Thrice on the prefs, like Mars himself, he flew,
And thrice three heroes at each onfet flew.
There ends thy glory! there the Fates untwine
The laft, black remnant of fo bright a line; 950
Apollo dreadful ftops the middle way;
Death calls, and Heaven allows no longer day!
For lo! the God, in dufky clouds enshrin'd,
Approaching dealt a ftaggering blow behind.
The weighty fhock his neck and fhoulders feel; 955
His eyes flafh fparkles, his ftunn'd fenfes reel
In giddy darkness: far to distance flung,
His bounding helmet on the champain rung.
Achilles' plume is ftain'd with duft and gore, [960
That plume, which never stoop'd to earth before;
Long us'd, untouch'd, in fighting fields to fhine,
And fhade the temples of the man divine.
Jove dooms it now on Hector's helm to nod;
Not long-for Fate purfues him, and the God.
His fpear in fhivers falls: his ample fhield 965
Drops from his arm: his baldrick ftrows the field:
The corfelet his aftonifh'd breaft forfakes:
Loofe is each joint: each nerve with horror shakes.
Stupid he ftares, and all-affiftless stands:
Such is the force of more than mortal hands! 970
A Dardan youth there was, well known to fame, From Panthus fprung, Euphorbus was his name; Fam'd for the manage of the foaming horfe, Skill'd in the dart, and matchlefs in the course: Full twenty knights he tumbled from the car, 975 While yet he learn'd his rudiments of war.
His venturous fpear first drew the hero's gore;
He ftruck, he wounded, but he durft no more;
Nor, though difarm'd, Patroclus' fury stood;
But fwift withdrew the long-protended wood, 980
And turn'd him fhort, and herded in thecrowd
Thus, by an arm divine, and mortal spear,
Wounded at once, Patroclus yields to fear,
Retires for fuccour to his focial train, [985
And flies the fate, which Heaven decreed, in vain.
Stern Hector, as the bleeding chief he views,
Breaks through the ranks, and his retreat pursues:
The lance arrefts him with a mortal wound;
He falls, earth thunders, and his arms refound.
With him all Greece was funk; that moment all
Her yet-furviving heroes feem'd to fall. [990
So, fcorch'd with heat, along the defert fhore,
The roaming lion meets a briftly boar,
Fait by the fpring; they both difpute the flood,
With flaming eyes, and jaws befmear'd with
blood;
995
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At length the fovereign savage wins the ftrife,
And the torn boar refigns his thirft and life.
Patrocius thus, fo many chiefs o'erthrown,
So many lives effus'd, expires his own.
As dying now at Hector's feet he lies,
He flernly views him, and triumphing cries!
Lie there, Patrocius: and with thee, the joy
Thy pride once promis'd, of fubverting Troy;
The fancy'd fcenes of Ilion wrapt in flames, [1c05
And thy foft pleafures ferv'd with captive dames!
Unthinking man! I fought, thofe towers to free,
And guard that beauteous race from lords like
But thou a prey to vultures fhalt be made; [thee;
Thy own Achilles cannot lend thee aid;
Though much at parting that great chief might
fay,
1010
And much enjoin thee, this important day.
"Return not, my brave friend (perhaps he faid).
"Without the bloody arms of Hector dead."
He fpoke, Patroclus march'd, and thus he fped.
Supine and wildly gazing on the skics,
With faint, expiring breath, the chief replies:
Vain boafter! ceafe, and know the Powers di-
Jove's and Apollo's is this deed, not thine; [vine !
To Heaven is ow'd whate'er your own you call,
And Heaven itself difarm'd me ere my fall. 1020
Had twenty mortals, each thy match in might,
Oppos'd me fairly, they had funk in fight:
By Fate and Phœbus was I first o'erthrown,
Euphorbus next, the third mean part thy own:
But thou, imperious! hear my latest breath; 1025
The Gods infpire it, and it founds thy death.
Infulting man, thou shalt be foon as I;
[nigh:
Black fate hangs o'er thee, and thy hour draws
Ev'n now on lile's laft verge 1 fee thee ftand,
I fee thee fall, and by Achilles' hand.
He faints; the foul unwilling wings her way
(The beauteous body left a load of clay)
Flits to the lone, uncomfortable coaft,
A naked, wandering, melancholy ghost!
Then Hector, paufing, as his eyes he fed 1035
On the pale carcafe, thus addrefs'd the dead;
From whence this boding fpeech, the ftern decree
Of death denounc'd, or why denounc'd to me?
Why not as well Achilles' fate be given
To Hector's lance? Who knows the will of Hea-
ven?
Penfive he faid; then preffing, as he lay,
His breathlefs bofom, tore the lance away,
And upwards caft the corpfe: the reeking spear
He fhakes, and charges the bold charioteer.
But fwift Automedon with loofen'd reins
Rapt in the chariot o'er the diftant plains,
Far from his rage th' immortal courfers drove,
Th' immortal courfers were the gift of Jove.
The feventh Battle, for the Body of Patroclus: the Acts of Menelaus.
Menelaus, upon the death of Patroclus, defends his body from the enemy: Euphorbus, who attempts it, is flain. Hellor advancing, Menelaus retires; but foon returns with Ajax, and drives bim off. This Glaucus objects to Hector as a flight; who thereupon puts on the armour be bad won from Patroclus, and renews the battle. The Greeks give way, till Ajax rallies them: Æneas fuftains the Trojans. neas and Hector attempt the chariot of Achilles, rubich is borne off by Automedon. The borfes of Achilles deplore the lofs of Patroclus: Jupiter covers his body with a thick darkness: the noble prayer of Ajax on that occafion. Menelaus fends Antilochus to Achilles, with the news of Patroclus' death; then returns to the fight; where, though attacked zeith the utmoft fury, be and Meriones, affifted by the Ajaxes, bear off the body to the fbips. The time is the evening of the eight and twentieth day. The fcene lies in the fields before Troy.
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Not thus the lion glories in his might,
Nor panther braves his fpotted foe in fight,
Nor thus the boar (thofe terrors of the plain)
Man oply vaunts his force, and vaunts in vain.
But far the vaineft of the boastful kind
Thefe fons of Panthus vent their haughty mind.
Yet 'twas but late, beneath my conquering steel
This boafter's brother, Hyperenor, fell;
Againft our arm, which rafhly he defy'd,
Vain was his vigour, and as vain his pride.
Thefe eyes beheld him on the duft expire,
No more to cheer his ipoufe, or glad his fire.
Prefumptuous youth! like his fhall be thy doom,
Go, wait thy brother to the Stygian gloom; [35
Or, while thou may'ft, avoid the threaten'd fate;
Fools ftay to feel it, and are wife too late.
Unmoy'd Euphorbus thus: That action known,
Come, for my brother's blood repay thy own.
His weeping father claims thy deftin'd head,
And fpoufe, a widow in her bridal bed:
On thefe thy conquer'd spoils I fhall below,
To foothe a confort's and a parent's woe;
No longer then defer the glorious ftrife,
Let Heaven decide our fortune, fame, and life.
Swift as the word the mifile lance he flings,
The well-aim'd weapon on the buckler rings,
But blunted by the brafs innoxious falls.
On Jove the father, great Atrides calls,
Nor flies the javelin from his arm in vain,
It pierc'd his throat, and bent him to the plain; 50
Wide though the neck appears the grifly wound,
Prone finks the warrior, and his arms refound.
The fhining circlets of his golden hair,
Which ev'n the Graces might be proud to wear,
Inftarr'd with gems and gold, beftrow the fhore, 55
With duft difhonour'd, and deform'd with gore.
And fends his voice in thunder to the skies:
Fierce as a flood of flame by Vulcan fent,
It flew, and fir'd the nations as it went.
Atrides from the voice the storm divin'd,
And thus explor'd his own unconquer'd mind; Ico
Then fhall I quit Patroclus on the plain,
Slain in my caufe, and for my honour flain?
Defert the arms, the relicks of my friend?
Or, fingly, Hector and his troops attend!
Sure where fuch partial favour heaven beftow'd,
To brave the hero were to brave the God:
Forgive me, Greece, if once I quit the field;
'Tis not to Hector, but to heaven I yield.
Yet, nor the God, nor heaven, fhall give me fear,
Did but the voice of Ajax reach my ear:
Still would we turn, ftill battle on the plains,
And give Achilles all that yet remains
Of his and our Patroclus-This, no more,
The time allow'd: Troy thicken'd on the fhore,
A fable fcene! The terrors Hector led.
Slow he recedes, and fighing quits the dead.
So from the fold th' unwilling lion parts,
Forc'd by loud clamours, and a storm of darts;
He flies indeed, but threatens as he flies,
With heart indignant and retorted eyes.
Now enter'd in the Spartan ranks, he turn'd
His manly breaft, and with new fury burn'd;
O'er all the black battalions fent his view,
And through the cloud the god-like Ajax knew;
60 Where labouring on the left the warrior stood, 125
All grim in arms, and cover'd o'er with blood;
There breathing courage, where the God of Day
Had funk each heart with terror and difmay.
As the young olive, in fome fylvan fcene,
Crown'd by fresh fountains with eternal green,
Lifts the gay head, in fnowy flowerets fair,
And plays and dances to the gentle air;
When lo! a whirlwind from high heaven invades
The tender plant, and withers all its fhades;
It lies uprooted from its genial bed,
T lovely ruin, now defac'd and dead.
Thus young, thus beautiful, Euphorbus lay,
While the fierce Spartan tore his arms away.
Froud of his deed, and glorious in the prize,
Affrighted Troy the towering victor flies:
Flies, as before fome mountain lion's ire
The village curs and trembling fwains retire,
When o'er the flaughter'd bull they hear
To him the king: Oh Ajax, oh my friend; Hafte, and Patroclus' lov'd remains defend: 130 The body to Achilles to restore,
Demands our care; alas, we can no more!
For naked now, defpoil'd of arms, he lies;'
And Hector glories in the dazzling prize.
He faid, and touch'd his heart. The raging pair
Pierce the thick battle, and provoke the war.
Already had ftern Hector feiz'd his head,
And doom'd to Trojan dogs th' unhappy dead;
But foon (as Ajax rear'd his tower-like fhield)
Sprung to his car, and measur'd back the field. 140
His train to Troy the radiant armour bear,
To stand a trophy of his fame in war.
Mean while great Ajax (his broad shield dif-
play'd)
Guards the dead hero with the dreadful fhade;
And now before, and now behind he stood: 145
Thus, in the centre of fome gloomy wood,
With many a step the lionefs furrounds
Her tawny young, befet by men and hounds;
Elate her heart, and rouzing all her powers,
Dark o'er the fiery balls each hanging eye-brow
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