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Now he, with us to Troy's Destruction fworn, Our Brother of the War, by whom are born Alcides' Arrows,pent in narrow Bounds, [Wounds, With Cold and Hunger pinch'd, and pain'd with To find him Food and Cloathing, must employ

gainst the Birds the Shafts due to the Fate of Troy. Tot ftill he lives, and lives from Treafon free, Because he left Ulysses? Company:

Poor Palamede might wish, fo void of Aid,
Rather to have been left, than fo to Death betray'd:
The Coward bore the Man immortal Spight,
Who fham'd him out of Madness into Fight:
Nor daring otherwife to vent his Hate,
Accus'd him firft of Treafon to the State,

And then for proof produc'd the golden Store;
Himself had hidden in his Tent before:

Thus of two Champions he depriv'd our Hoft,
By Exile one, and one by Treason lost.
Thus fights Vlyffes, thus his Fame extends,
A formidable Man, but to his Friends:

Great, for what Greatness is in Words and Sound,
Ev'n faithful Neftor lefs in both is found;

But that he might without a Rival reign,
He left this 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 Cowardice has neither Ears nor Shame:
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 Vlyffean Lie,

I vouch ev'n Diomede, who tho' his Friend
Cannot that A& 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 justly was forfaken, who forfook:

Wanted that Succour he refus'd to lend,
Found ev'ry Fellow fuch another Friend:
No wonder, if he roar'd that all might hear;
His Elocution was increas'd by Fear:

I heard, I ran, 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 so bad a Deed!
If still he will perfift, and urge the Strife,
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 confefs his Fear;
There put him in the very Jaws of Fate;
And let him plead his Cause in that Estate:
And yet when snatch'd from Death, when from be-

My lifted Shield I loos'd, and let him go: [low

Good Heav'ns how light he rofe,with what a bound He sprung from Earth, forgetful of his Wound; How fresh, how eager then his Feet to ply; Who had not Strength to ftand, had Speed to fly!

Hector came on, and brought the Gods along; Fear feiz'd alike the Feeble and the Strong:

Each Greek was an Ulysses; fuch a Dread
Th' Approach, and ev'n the Sound of Hector bred:
Him, flesh'd with Slaughter, and with Conquest

crown'd,

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I met, and over-turn'd him to the Ground;
When after, matchlefs as he deem'd in Might,
He challeng'd all our Host to single Fight;
All Eyes were fix'd on me: The Lots were thrown;
But for your Champion I was wifh'd alone:
Your Vows were heard, we fought, and neither
Yet Ireturn'd unvanquish'd from the Field. [yield ;
With Jove to friend th' insulting Trojan came,
And menac❜d us with Force, our Fleet withFlame:
Was it the Strength of this Tongue-valiant Lord,
In that black Hour, that fav'd you from the Sword?
Or was my Breaft expos'd alone, to brave
A thousand Swords, a thousand Ships to fave?
The hopes of your return! And can you yield,
For a fav'd Fleet, lefs than a fingle Shield?
Think it no Boaft, O Grecians, if I deem
These Arms want Ajax, more than Ajax them;`
Or, I with them an equal Honour share;
They honour'd to be worn, and I to wear.

Will he compare my Courage with his Slight?
As well he may compare the Day with Night.
Night is indeed the Province of his Reign:
Yet all his dark Exploits no more contain
Than a Spy taken, and a Sleeper flain.
A Priest made Pris'ner, Pallas made a Prey,
But none of all these Actions done by Day:
Nor ought of these was done, and Diomede away.
If on fuch petty Merits you confer

So vaft a Prize, let each his Portion fhare;
Make a juft Dividend; and if not all,
The greater part to Diomede will fall.
But why, for Ithacus fuch Arms as those,
Who naked and by Night invades his Foes?
The glitt'ring Helm by Moonlight will proclaim
The latent Robber, and prevent his Game:
Nor cou'd he hold his tott'ring Head upright
Beneath that Motion, or fustain the Weight;
Nor that right Arm cou'd tofs the beamy Lance;
Much less the left that ampler Shield advance;
Pond'rous with precious Weight,and rough with
Coft

Of the round World in rifin Gold embofs'd.

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