If he be what he promises in show, Why was I sent, and why fear'd he to go? 525 Our boasting champion thought the task not light Before that monstrous bulk his seven-fold shield. 66 Why point'st thou to my partner of the war? Tydides had indeed a worthy share 536 540 545 In all my toil and praise; but when thy might 550 555 By how much more the ship her safety owes 560 565 570 By all our common hopes, if hopes they be 575 To be perform'd by prudence, or by pains; 580 If yet some desperate action rests behind, That asks high conduct, and a dauntless mind; 585 He ceased: and ceasing, with respect he bow'd, And with his hand at once the fatal statue show'd. Heaven, air, and ocean, rung with loud applause, And by the general vote he gain'd his cause. Thus conduct won the prize, when courage fail'd, And eloquence o'er brutal force prevail'd. 590 DEATH OF AJAX. AJAX, in despair, puts a period to his existence, and the blood of the hero is changed into a hyacinth. He who could often, and alone, withstand 595 Then snatching out his falchion," Thou," said he, "Art mine; Ulysses lays no claim to thee. Oh often tried, and ever-trusty sword, Now do thy last kind office to thy lord: 'Tis Ajax who requests thy aid, to show 600 None but himself himself could overthrow :" No hands could force it thence, so fix'd it stood, 605 Till out it rush'd, expell'd by streams of spouting blood. 610 The fruitful blood produced a flower, which grew Inscribed in both, the letters are the same, But those express the grief, and these the name. BY TEMPLE STANYAN. STORY OF POLYXENA AND HECUBA. POLYXENA, the daughter of Priam, is sacrificed at the tomb of Achilles, while her brother Polydore, by his great riches, excites the avarice of Polymestor, king of Thrace, who murders him-The lifeless body of her son is discovered by Hecuba, who contrives to deprive the faithless monarch of his eyesHis subjects pursue her with darts and stones, when she is metamorphosed into a bitch. THE victor with full sails for Lemnos stood, Once stain'd by matrons with their husbands' blood,) Thence great Alcides' fatal shafts to bear, 616 625 These with their guardian to the Greeks convey'd, 630 636 The winds now call to sea; brisk northern gales Sing in the shrouds, and court the spreading sails. "Farewell, dear Troy," the captive matrons cry: "Yes, we must leave our long-loved native sky." Then prostrate on the shore they kiss the sand, And quit the smoking ruins of the land. Last Hecuba on board, sad sight! appears; Found weeping o'er her children's sepulchres: Dragg'd by Ulysses from her slaughter'd sons, While yet she grasp'd their tombs, and kiss'd their mouldering bones. Yet Hector's ashes from his urn she bore, 645 650 655 Opposed to Hium lie the Thracian plains, Where Polymestor safe in plenty reigns. King Priam to his care commits his son, Young Polydore, the chance of war to shun. A wise precaution! had not gold, consign'd For the child's use, debauch'd the tyrant's mind. When sinking Troy to its last period drew, With impious hands his royal charge he slew; 660 Then in the sea the lifeless corse is thrown; As with the body he the guilt could drown. The Greeks now riding on the Thracian shore, Till kinder gales invite, their vessels moor. Here the wide-opening earth to sudden view Disclosed Achilles, great as when he drew The vital air, but fierce with proud disdain, As when he sought Briseis to regain; When stern debate, and rash injurious strife Unsheathed his sword, to reach Atrides' life. "And will ye go?" he said. "Is then the name Of the once great Achilles lost to fame? Yet stay, ungrateful Greeks; nor let me sue In vain for honours to my manes due. For this just end, Polyxena I doom With victim rites to grace my slighted tomb." The phantom spoke; the ready Greeks obey'd, And to the tomb led the devoted maid Snatch'd from her mother, who with pious care 665 670 675 680 Which Pyrrhus pointed at her guiltless life. blood; 685 "Now strike," she said; 66 now spill my generous Deep in my breast or throat your dagger sheathe, While thus I stand prepared to meet my death: For life on terms of slavery I despise : Yet sure no god approves this sacrifice. 690 |