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If he be what he promises in fhow,

Why was I fent, and why fear'd he to go ?
Our boafting champion thought the task not light
To pafs the guards, commit himself to night;
Not only through a hoftile town to pass,
But fcale, with fteep afcent, the facred place;
With wand'ring fteps to fearch the citadel,
And from the priests their patronefs to fteal:
Then through furrounding foes to force my way,
And bear in triumph home the heav'nly prey;"
Which had I not, Ajax in vain had held,
Before that monftrous bulk, his fev'nfold fhield.
That night to conquer Troy I might be faid,
When Troy was liable to conqueft made.

Why point'ft thou to my partner of the war?
Tydides had indeed a worthy fhare

In all my toil, and praife; but when thy might
Our ships protected, didst thou fingly fight?
All join'd, and thou of many wert but one;
I afk'd no friend, nor had, but him alone :
Who, had he not been well affur'd, that art
And conduct were of war the better part,
And more avail'd than ftrength, my valiant friend
Had urg'd a better right, than Ajax can pretend;
As good at leaft Eurypylus may claim,
And the more moderate Ajax of the name:
The Cretan king, and his brave charioteer,
And Menelaus bold with fword and spear:
All these had been my rivals in the fhield,
And yet all thefe to my pretenfions yield.
Thy boift'rous hands are then of ufe, when I
With this directing head those hands apply.
Brawn without brain is thine; my prudent care
Forefees, provides, adminifters the war :
Thy province is to fight; but when. fhall be
The time to fight, the king confults with me:

No

No dram of judgment with thy force is join'd;
Thy body is of profit, and my mind.

By how much more the fhip her fafety owes
To him who fteers, than him that only rows,
By how much more the captain merits praise
Than he who fights, and fighting but obeys;
By fo much greater is my worth than thine,
Who canft but execute what I defign.
What gain't thou, brutal man, if I confefs
Thy ftrength fuperior, when thy wit is lefs?
Mind is the man: I claim my whole defert
From the mind's vigour, and th' immortal part.
But you, O Grecian chiefs, reward my care,
Be grateful to your watchman of the war :
For all my labours in fo long a space,
Sure I may plead a title to your grace:
Enter the town; I then unbarr'd the gates,
When I remov'd their tutelary fates.
By all our common hopes, if hopes they be
Which I have now reduc'd to certainty;
By falling Troy, by yonder tott'ring tow'rs,
And by their taken Gods, which now are ours;
Or if there yet a farther task remains,
To be perform'd by prudence or by pains;
If yet fome defp'rate action rests behind,
That afks high conduct, and a dauntless mind;
If ought be wanting to the Trojan doom,
Which none but I can manage and o'ercome;
Award thofe arms I afk, by your decree:
Or give to this what you refufe to me.

He ceas'd and ceafing with refpect he bow'd,
And with his hand at once the fatal ftatue fhew'd.
Heav'n, air, and ocean rung with loud applaufe,
And by the gen'ral vote he gain'd his cause.
Thus conduct won the prize, when courage fail'd,
And eloquence o'er brutal force prevail'd.

VOL. IV.

G

The

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The Death of AJAX.

He who could often, and alone, withstand
The foe, the fire, and Jove's own partial hand,
Now cannot his unmaster'd grief sustain,
But yields to rage, to madnefs, and difdain;
Then fnatching out his fauchion, Thou, faid he,
Art mine; Ulyffes lays no claim to thee.
O often try'd, and ever trufty fword,
Now do thy laft kind office to thy lord:
"Tis Ajax who requests thy aid, to show
None but himself, himself could overthrow.
He said, and with fo good a will to die
Did to his breaft the fatal point apply,
It found his heart, a way till then unknown,
Where never weapon enter'd but his own:

No hands could force it thence, fo fixt it stood,
'Till out it rufh'd, expell'd by streams of spouting blood.
The fruitful blood produc'd a flow'r, which grew
On a green ftem; and of a purple hue:
Like his, whom unaware Apollo flew :
Infcrib'd in both, the letters are the fame,

But thofe express the grief, and these the name.

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THE

THE

Story of Acis, POLYPHEMUS, and GALATEA.

From the Thirteenth Book of

OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

ACTS, the lovely youth, whofe lofs I mourn,

From Faunus, and the nymph Symethis born,

Was both his parents pleasure; but to me
Was all that love could make a lover be.
The Gods our minds in mutual bands did join :
I was his only joy, and he was mine.

Now fixteen fummers the sweet youth had feen;
And doubtful down began to fhade his chin:
When Polyphemus firft difturb'd our joy,
And lov'd me fiercely, as I lov'd the boy.
Afk not which paffion in my foul was high'r,
My last averfion, or my first defire :

Nor this the greater was, nor that the lefs;
Both were alike, for both were in excefs.
Thee, Venus, thee both heav'n and earth obey;
Immenfe thy pow'r, and boundless is thy fway.
The Cyclops, who defy'd th' ætherial throne,
And thought no thunder louder than his own.
The terrour of the woods, and wilder far
Than wolves in plains, or bears in forests are,
Th' inhuman hoft, who made his bloody feasts
On mangled members of his butcher'd guefts,
Yet felt the force of love, and fierce defire,
And burnt for me with unrelenting fire :
Forgot his caverns, and his woolly care,
Affum'd the foftness of a lover's air;

And comb'd, with teeth of rakes, his rugged hair.

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Now

Now with a crooked fcythe his beard he fleeks,
And mows the ftubborn ftubble of his cheeks:
Now in the crystal stream he looks, to try
His fimagres, and rolls his glaring eye..
His cruelty and thirst of blood are loft;
And fhips fecurely fail along the coaft.

The prophet Telemus (arriv'd by chance
Where Etna's fummits to the feas advance,
Who mark'd the tracks of ev'ry bird that flew,
And fure prefages from their flying drew)
Foretold the Cyclops, that Ulyffes' hand
In his broad eye should thrust a flaming brand.
The giant, with a fcornful grin, reply'd,
Vain augur, thou haft falfly prophesy'd;
Already Love his flaming brand has toft;
Looking on two fair eyes, my fight I loft.
Thus, warn'd in vain, with stalking pace he ftrode,
And ftamp'd the margin of the briny flood
With heavy steps; and, weary, fought agen
The cool retirement of his gloomy den.
A promontory, fharp'ning by degrees,
Ends in a wedge, and overlooks the seas :
On either fide, below, the water flows :
This airy walk the giant-lover chofe ;
Here on the midft he fate; his flocks, unled,
Their fhepherd follow'd, and fecurely fed.
A pine fo burly, and of length so vaft,
That failing fhips requir'd it for a maft,
He wielded for a staff, his fteps to guide:
But laid it by, his whistle while he try'd.
A hundred reeds, of a prodigious growth,
Scarce made a pipe proportion'd to his mouth:
Which when he gave it wind, the rocks around,
And wat'ry plains, the dreadful hifs refound.
I heard the ruffian fhepherd rudely blow,
Where, in a hollow cave, I fat below;

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