But bafely fled that memorable day,

When I from Hector's hands redeem'd the flaming

prey.

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 fpeak my deeds, for those

The fun and day are witneffes for me.

you fee;

Let him who fights unseen relate his own,

And vouch the filent stars, and confcious moon. Great is the prize demanded, I confess,

But fuch an abject rival makes it lefs.

That gift, those 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 question'd, yet my blood
Without that plea would make my title good:
My fire was Telamon, whofe arms, employ'd
With Hercules, thefe Trojan walls destroy'd;
And who before, with Jafon, fent from Greece,
In the first fhip brought home the golden fleece:

Great Telamon from Eacus derives

His birth (th' inquifitor of guilty lives

In fhades below; where Sifyphus, whose son
This thief is thought, rolls up the restless heavy

ftone,)

Juft Æacus the king of Gods above
Begot: thus Ajax is the third from Jove.
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 Sifyphian feed
By fraud and theft afferts his father's breed.
Then must I lose these arms, because I came
To fight uncall'd, a voluntary name?
Nor fhunn'd the caufe, 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 fnare,
(Ill for himself) and dragg'd him into war.
Now let a hero's arms a coward veft,

And he, who shunn'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

in fight.

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 less his counsell'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 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,

1

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

Troy.

Yet ftill he lives, and lives from treason free,
Because he left Ulyffes' 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 fham'd him out of madness into fight:
Nor daring otherwise to vent his hate,
Accus'd him firft of treafon to the state;

And then for proof produc'd the golden ftore
Himself had hidden in his tent before:
Thus of two champions he depriv'd our hoft,
By exile one, and one by treafon loft.
Thus fights Ulyffes, thus his fame extends,
A formidable man, but to his friends:
Great, for what greatness is in words and found:
Ev'n faithful Neftor lefs in both is found:
But that he might without a rival reign,
He left his faithful Neftor on the plain;
Forfook 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 cowardife has neither ears nor fhame:
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 Ulyffean lye,

I vouch ev'n Diomede, who, tho' his friend,
Cannot that act excufe, much lefs defend:
He call'd him back aloud, and tax'd his fear;
And fure enough he heard, but durft not hear.
The Gods with equal eyes on mortals look;
He juftly was forsaken, who forfook:
Wanted that fuccour he refus'd to lend,
Found every fellow fuch another friend:
No wonder, if he roar'd that all might hear,
His elocution was increas'd by fear :

I heard, Iran, 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 trembled as he lay below ;)
And from impending fate the coward freed:
Good heav'n forgive me for fo bad a dee
If still he will perfift, and urge the ftrife,
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 quiv'ring heart confess his fear;