Try thou the strength of Cæneus: at the word
He thruft; and in his fhoulder plung'd the fword.
Then writh'd his hand; and as he drove it down,
Deep in his breaft, made many wounds in one.
The Centaurs faw, inrag'd, th' unhop'd fuccefs;
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 fhame, 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 awail our nerves? th' united force,
Of two the strongest creatures, man and horse :
Nor goddess-born, nor of Ixion's feed
We feem; (a lover built for Juno's bed ;)
Mafter'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 foul within, tho' not to force it out.
Heap weights, inftead of wounds: he canc'd to fee
Where fouthern ftorms had rooted up a tree;
This, rais'd from earth, against the foe he threw ;
Th' example fhewn, his fellow-brutes pursue.
With foreft-loads the warrior they invade;
Othrys and Pelion foon were void of fhade;
And fpreading groves were naked mountains made.
Prefs'd with the burden, Cæneus pants for breath;
And on his shoulders bears the wooden death.
To heave th' intolerable weight he tries;
At length it rofe above his mouth and eyes;
Yet ftill he heaves: and ftruggling with defpair,
Shakes all afide, and gains a gulp of air:
A fhort relief, which but prolongs his pain;
He faints by fits; and then refpires again :
At last, the burden only nods above,
As when an earthquake firs th' Idæan grove.
Doubtful his death: he fuffocated feem'd
To moft; but otherwise our Mopfus deem'd.
Who faid he saw a yellow bird arise
From out the pile, and cleave the liquid fkies:
I faw it too with golden feathers bright,
Nor e'er before beheld fo ftrange a fight.
Whom Mopfus viewing, as it foar'd around
Our troop, and heard the pinions rattling found,
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:
Afsham'd to fee a fingle man, purfu'd
With odds, to fink beneath a multitude:
We push'd the foe, and forc'd to shameful fight;
Part fell; and part efcap'd by favour of the night.
This tale, by Neftor told, did much difpleafe
Tlepolemus, the feed of Hercules:
For, often he had heard his father fay,
That he himself was present at the fray;
And more than fhar'd the glories of the day.
Old Chronicle, he faid, among the reft,
You might have nam'd Alcides at the leaft:
Is he not worth your praife? The Pylian prince
Sigh'd ere he spoke; then made this proud defence.
My former woes, in long oblivion_drown'd,
I would have loft; 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 fky;
(Which, oh, I wifh, with truth, I could deny!)
We praise not Hector; tho' his name, we know,
Is great in arms; 'tis hard to praise a foe.
He, your great father, leveil'd to the ground
Meffenia's tow'rs: nor better fortune found
Elis, and Pylas; that a neigh'bring ftate,
And this my own; both guiltlefs of their fate.
To pass the reft, twelve, wanting one, he flew
My brethren, who their birth from Neleus drew.
All youths of early promife, had they liv'd;
By him they perifh'd: I alone furviv'd.
The reft were easy conqueft: but the fate
Of Periclymenos is wond'rous to relate.
To him our common grandfire of the main
Had giv'n to change his form, and chang'd, refume agains
Vary'd at pleasure, ev'ry fhape he try'd ;
And in all beafts Alcides ftill defy'd :
Vanquish'd on earth, at length he foar'd above ;
Chang'd to the bird, that bears the bolt of Jove :
The new diffembled eagle, now endu'd
With peak and pounces, Hercules purfu'd,
And cuff'd his manly cheeks, and tore his face;
Then, fafe 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, fufpended as he stood;
And in his pinion fix'd the feather'd wood.
Light was the wound; but in the finew hung
The point; and his difabled wing unftrung.
He wheel'd in air, and ftretch'd his vans in vain ;
His vans no longer could his flight fuftain :
For while one gather'd wind, one unfupply'd
Hung drooping down; nor pois'd his other fide.
He fell the fhaft that flightly was imprefs'd,
Now from his heavy fall with weight increas'd;
Drove thro' his neck, aflant; he fpurns the ground,
And the foul iffues thro' the weazon's wound.
Now, brave commander of the Rhodian feas,
What praise is due from me to Hercules?
Silence is all the vengeance I decree
For my flain brothers; but 'tis peace with thee.
Thus with a flowing tongue old Neftor fpoke:
Then, to full bowls each other they provoke:
At length with weariness and wine opprefs'd,
They rife from table, and withdraw to reft.
The fire of Cygnus, monarch of the main,
Mean time, laments his fon in battle flain:
And vows the victor's death, nor vows in vain.
For nine long years the fmother'd pain he bore;
(Achilles was not ripe for fate before :)
Then when he faw 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 beft I love,
Whofe hands were join'd with mine, to raise the wall
Of tott'ring Troy, now nodding to her fall.
Doft thou not mourn our pow'r employ'd in vain 3
And the defenders of our city flain?
To pass the reft, could noble Hector lie
Unpity'd, drag'd around his native Troy?
And yet the murd'rer lives: himself by far
A greater plague, than all the wafteful war :
He lives; the proud Pelides lives, to boast
Our town deftroy'd, our common labour loft!
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 pieree his only penetrable part.
Apollo bows to the fuperior 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 ftood,
And ftain'd his arrows with Plebeian blocd:
Phoebus to him alone the God confefs'd,
Then to the recreant knight he thus addrefs'd.
Doft thou not blush, to spend thy fhafts 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 faid; and fhew'd from far the blazing shield
And fword, which but Achilles none could wield;
And how he mov'd a God, and mow'd the standing field.
The Deity himself directs aright
Th' invenom'd fhaft; and wings the fatal flight.
Thus fell the foremost of the Grecian name;
And he, the bafe adult'rer, boasts the fame.
A fpectacle to glad the Trojan train;
And please old Priam, after Hector flain.
If by a female hand he had foreseen
He was to die, his wifh had rather been
The lance and double axe of the fair warrior queen.
And now, the terror 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 firft, confum'd at last.
Of all the mighty man, the fmall remains
A little urn, and fcarcely fill'd, contains.
Yet great in Homer, ftill Achilles lives;
And, equal to himself, himself survives.
His buckler owns its former lord; and brings
New caufe of ftrife betwixt contending kings;
Who worthieft, after him, his fword to wield,
Or wear his armour, or fuftain his shield.
Ev'n Diomede fat mute, with down-cast eyes;
Conscious of wanted worth to win the prize :
Nor Menelaus prefum'd these arms to claim,
Nor he the king of men, a greater name.
Two rivals only rofe: Laertes' fon,
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 determia'd by the laws;
And to the Grecian chiefs transferr'd the cause.
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