From the Thirteenth Book of
HE chiefs were fet, the foldiers crown'd the field:
To these the master of the fevenfold
Upstarted fierce: and kindled with disdain,
Eager to fpeak, unable to contain
His boiling rage, he roll'd his
The shore, and Grecian gallies hall'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 Ulyffes for the prize contend,
In fight of what he durft not once defend?
B
But bafely fled that memorable day,
When I from Hector's hands redeem'd the flaming
So much 'tis fafer at the noisy bar
With words to flourish, than engage in war.
By diff'rent 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 deceft.
Nor need I speak my deeds, for those you fee;
The fun and day are witneffes for me.
Let him who fights unfeen relate his own,
And vouch the filent ftars, and confcious moon.
Great is the prize demanded, I confess,
But such an abject rival makes it lefs.
That gift, thofe honors, he but hop'd to gain,
Can leave no room for Ajax to be vain:
Lofing he wins, because his name will be
Ennobled by defeat, who durft contend with me.
Were mine own valour queftion'd, yet my blood
Without that plea would make my title good:
My fire was Telamon, whose arms, employ'd
With Hercules, thefe Trojan walls destroy'd ;
And who before, with Jafon, fent from Greece,
In the first ship brought home the golden fleece:
Great Telamon from Æacus derives
His birth (th' inquifitor of guilty lives
In shades below; where Sifyphus, whose fon This thief is thought, rolls up the restless heavy
Juft acus the king of Gods above
Begot: thus Ajax is the third from Jove.
Nor fhould I feek 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 Sifyphian feed
By fraud and theft afferts his father's breed.
Then muft I lofe thefe arms, because I came
To fight uncall'd, a voluntary name?
Nor fhunn'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 diftraction to conceal his fear:
Till one more cunning caught him in the fnare,
(Ill for himself) and dragg'd him into war.
Now let a hero's arms a coward veft,
And he, who fhunn'd all honors, gain the best;
And let me stand excluded from my right, Robb'd of my kinfman's arms, who firft appear'd
Better for us, at home he had remain'd,
Had it been true the madness which he feign'd,
Or fo believ'd; the lefs had been our shame,
The lefs his counfell'd crime, which brands the
Grecian name;
Nor Philoctetes had been left inclos'd
In a bare ifle, to wants and pains expos'd,
Where to the rocks, with folitary groans,
His fuff'rings and our baseness he bemoans;
And wishes (fo may heav'n his wish fulfil)
The due reward to him who caus'd his ill.
Now he, with us to Troy's deftruction fworn,
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 fhafts due to the fate of
Yet ftill he lives, and lives from treafon free,
Because he left Ulyffes' company:
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