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Fame sits aloft, and sees the subject ground, And seas about, and skies above; inquiring all around.

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The goddess gives the alarm, and soon is known The Grecian fleet descending on the town. Fix'd on defence, the Trojans are not slow To guard their shore from an expected foe. They meet in fight. By Hector's fatal hand Protesilaus falls, and bites the strand;

Which with expense of blood the Grecians won, 95 And proved the strength unknown of Priam's son: And to their cost the Trojan leaders felt

The Grecian heroes, and what deaths they dealt.

STORY OF CYCNUS.

CYCNUS, a son of Neptune, and invulnerable in every part of his body, is at length strangled by Achilles, who strips him of his armour, when he is changed into a swan.

FROM these first onsets, the Sigean shore

Was strew'd with carcasses, and stain'd with gore.
Neptunian Cycnus troops of Greeks had slain; 101
Achilles in his car had scoured the plain,

And clear'd the Trojan ranks; where'er he fought,
Cycnus, or Hector, through the fields he sought.
Cycnus he found; on him his force essay'd;
For Hector was to the tenth year delay'd.

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His white maned steeds, that bow'd beneath the

yoke,

He cheer'd to courage, with a gentle stroke,

Then urged his fiery chariot on the foe,

And rising shook his lance, in act to throw.

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But first, he cried, "Oh youth, be proud to bear

Thy death, ennobled by Pelides' spear."
The lance pursued the voice without delay,
Nor did the whizzing weapon miss the way,
But pierced his cuirass, with such fury sent,
And sign'd his bosom with a purple dint.

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At this the seed of Neptune: "Goddess born,
For ornament, not use, these arms are worn ;
This helm, and heavy buckler, I can spare,
As only decorations of the war;

So Mars is arm'd for glory, not for need.
"Tis somewhat more from Neptune to proceed,
Than from a daughter of the sea to spring;
Thy sire is mortal, mine is ocean's king.
Secure of death, I should contemn thy dart,
Though naked, and impassable depart."

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He said, and threw; the trembling weapon pass'd
Through nine bull hides, each under other placed,
On his broad shield, and stuck within the last.
Achilles wrench'd it out, and sent again
The hostile gift: the hostile gift was vain.
He tried a third, a tough, well-chosen spear,
The inviolable body stood sincere,
Though Cycnus then did no defence provide,
But scornful offer'd his unshielded side.

Not otherwise the impatient hero fared,
Than as a bull encompass'd with a guard,
Amid the circus roars, provoked from far
By sight of scarlet and a sanguine war:

They quit their ground; his bended horns elude; In vain pursuing, and in vain pursued.

Before to further fight he would advance,

He stood considering, and survey'd his lance;
Doubts if he wielded not a wooden spear

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Without a point: he look'd; the point was there.
"This is my hand, and this my lance," he said, 146
"By which so many thousand foes are dead;
Oh whither is their usual virtue fled!

I had it once; and the Lyrnessian wall,
And Tenedos, confess'd it in their fall.

Thy streams, Caicus, rolled a crimson flood;
And Thebes ran red with her own natives' blood
Twice Telephus employ'd their piercing steel,
To wound him first, and afterward to heal.

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The vigour of this arm was never vain :

And that my wonted prowess I retain,

Witness these heaps of slaughter on the plain."

He said; and, doubtful of his former deeds,

So some new trial of his force proceeds.
He chose Menætes from among the rest;

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At him he launch'd his spear, and pierced his breast:

On the hard earth the Lycian knock'd his head,
And lay supine, and forth the spirit fled.

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Then thus the hero: "Neither can I blame
The hand or javelin; both are still the same:
The same I will employ against this foe,
And wish but with the same success to throw."
So spoke the chief; and while he spoke he threw;
The weapon with unerring fury flew,

At his left shoulder aim'd: nor entrance found; 170
But back, as from a rock, with swift rebound,
Harmless return'd: a bloody mark appear'd,
Which, with false joy, the flatter'd hero cheer'd.
Wound there was none; the blood that was in

view,

The lance before from slain Menætes drew.
Headlong he leaps from off his lofty car,
And in close fight on foot renews the war:
Raging with high disdain, repeats his blows:
Nor shield nor armour can their force oppose :

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Huge cantlets of his buckler strew the ground, 180
And no defence in his bored arms is found:
But on his flesh no wound or blood is seen;
The sword itself is blunted on the skin.

This vain attempt the chief no longer bears,
But round his hollow temples and his ears
His buckler beats: the son of Neptune, stunn'd
With these repeated buffets, quits his ground;
A sickly sweat succeeds, and shades of night;
Inverted nature swims before his sight:
The insulting victor presses on the more,
And treads the steps the vanquish'd trod before,

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Nor rest nor respite gives. A stone there lay
Behind his trembling foe, and stopp'd his way;
Achilles took the advantage which he found,
O'erturn'd, and push'd him backward on the ground.
His buckler held him under, while he press'd
With both his knees above his panting breast:
Unlaced his helm about his chin the twist
He tied; and soon the strangled soul dismiss'd.
With eager haste he went to strip the dead: 200
The vanish'd body from his arms was fled :
His sea-god sire, to immortalize his frame,
Had turn'd it to the bird that bears his name.
A truce succeeds the labours of this day,
And arms suspended with a long delay.
While Trojan walls are kept with watch and ward,
The Greeks before their trenches mount the guard:
The feast approach'd, when to the blue-eyed maid
His vows for Cycnus slain the victor paid,
And a white heifer on her altar laid;

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The reeking entrails on the fire they threw,
And to the gods the grateful odour flew :
Heaven had its part in sacrifice; the rest
Was broil'd and roasted for the future feast.
The chief invited guests were set around;

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And, hunger first assuaged, the bowls were crown'd, Which in deep draughts their cares and labours

drown'd.

The mellow harp did not their ears employ;
And mute was all the warlike symphony:

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Discourse, the food of souls, was their delight, 220
And pleasing chat prolong'd the summer's night;
The subject, deeds of arms, and valour shown,
Or on the Trojan side, or on their own:
Of dangers undertaken, fame achieved,
They talk'd by turns-the talk by turns relieved.
What things but these could fierce Achilles tell;
Or what could fierce Achilles hear so well?
The last great act perform'd, of Cycnus slain,
Did most the martial audience entertain;

Wondering to find a body free by fate

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From steel, and which could ev'n that steel rebate: Amazed, their admiration they renew;

And scarce Pelides could believe it true.

STORY OF CENEUS.

THE nymph Cænis, having suffered violence from Neptune, prevails on her ravisher to change her sex, and make her invulnerable.

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THEN Nestor thus: "What once this age has known,
In fated Cycnus, and in him alone,
These eyes have seen in Cæneus long before,
Whose body not a thousand swords could bore,
Cæneus in courage and in strength excell'd;
And still his Othrys with his fame is fill'd:
But what did most his martial deeds adorn-
Though since he changed his sex, a woman born."
A novelty so strange, and full of fate,
His listening audience ask'd him to relate.
Achilles thus commends their common suit:
"Oh father, first for prudence in repute,
Tell, with that eloquence so much thy own,
What thou hast heard, or what of Caneus known:
What was he; whence his change of sex begun :
What trophies, join'd in wars with thee, he won:
Who conquer'd him; and in what fatal strife
The youth, without a wound, could lose his life?"
Neleides then: "Though tardy age and time
Have shrunk my sinews and decay'd my prime;
Though much I have forgotten of my store,
Yet, not exhausted, I remember more.
Of all that arms achieved, or peace design'd,
That action still is fresher in my mind
Than aught beside. If reverend age can give
To faith a sanction, in my third I live.

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""Twas in my second century I survey'd Young Canis, then a fair Thessalian maid:

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