What gain't thou, brutal man, if I confefs Thy ftrength fuperior, when thy wit is lefs? Mind is the man: I claim my whole defert From the mind's vigor, and th' immortal part. But you, O Grecian chiefs, reward my care, Be grateful to your watchman of the war: For all my labours in fo long a space, Sure I may plead a title to your grace: Enter the town; I then unbarr'd the gates, When I remov'd their tutelary fates.
By all our common hopes, if hopes they be Which I have now reduc'd to certainty; By falling Troy, by yonder tott'ring tow'rs, And by their taken Gods, which now are ours; Or if there yet a farther task remains, To be perform'd by prudence or by pains; If yet some defp'rate action refts behind, That afks high conduct, and a dauntless mind; If ought be wanting to the Trojan doom, Which none but I can manage and o'ercome; Award those arms I afk, by your decree:
Or give to this what you refufe to me.
He ceas'd: and ceafing with respect he bow'd, And with his hand at once the fatal ftatue
Heav'n, air, and ocean rung, with loud applaufe, And by the gen'ral vote he gain'd his caufe. Thus conduct won the prize, when courage fail'd, And eloquence o'er brutal force prevail'd.
He who could often, and alone, withstand The foe, the fire, and Jove's own partial hand, Now cannot his unmaster'd grief sustain,
But yields to rage, to madnefs, and difdain; Then featching out his fauchion, Thou, faid
Art mine; Ulyffes lays no claim to thee. O often try'd, and ever trufty fword, Now do thy laft kind office to thy lord: 'Tis Ajax who requests thy aid, to show None but himself, himself could overthrow. He faid, and with so good a will to die Did to his breast the fatal point apply,
It found his heart, a way till then unknown, Where never weapon enter'd but his own: No hands could force it thence, fo fixt it ftood, 'Till out it rufh'd, expell'd by ftreams of spouting blood.
The fruitful blood produc'd a flow'r, which
On a green stem; and of a purple hue: Like his, whom unaware Apollo flew : Infcrib'd in both, the letters are the fame,
But thofe exprefs the grief, and these the name.
Story of ACIS, POLYPHEMUS, and GALATEA.
From the Thirteenth Book of
ACIS, the lovely youth, whose lofs I mourn,
From Faunus, and the nymph Symethis
Was both his parents pleasure; but to me Was all that love could make a lover be. The Gods our minds in mutual bands did join: I was his only joy, and he was mine.
Now fixteen fummers the sweet youth had seen; And doubtful down began to shade his chin: When Polyphemus first disturb'd our joy, And lov'd me fiercely, as I lov'd the boy. Afk not which paffion in my foul was high'r, My last averfion, or my firft defire: Nor this the greater was, nor that the lefs; Both were alike, for both were in excess.
Thee, Venus, thee both heav'n and earth obey; Immenfe thy pow'r, and boundless is thy fway. The Cyclops, who defy'd th' ætherial throne, And thought no thunder louder than his own,
The terror of the woods, and wilder far Than wolves in plains, or bears in forefts are, Th' inhuman host, who made his bloody feasts On mangled members of his butcher'd guests, Yet felt the force of love, and fierce defire, And burnt for me, with unrelenting fire: Forgot his caverns, and his woolly care, Affum'd the foftness of a lover's air;
And comb'd, with teeth of rakes, his rugged hair. Now with a crooked scythe his beard he fleeks, And mows the ftubborn ftubble of his cheeks: Now in the crystal stream he looks, to try His fimagres, and rowls his glaring eye. His cruelty and thirst of blood are loft; And ships fecurely fail along the coast.
The prophet Telemus (arriv'd by chance Where Etna's fummits to the feas advance, Who mark'd the tracks of ev'ry bird that flew, And fure prefages from their flying drew) Foretold the Cyclops, that Ulyffes' hand In his broad eye should thrust a flaming brand. The giant, with a fcornful grin, reply'd, Vain augur, thou haft falfly prophesy'd; Already Love his flaming brand has toft; Looking on two fair eyes, my fight I lost.
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