Him, the bold leader of th' Abantian throng
Seiz'd to defpoil, and dragg'd the corpfe along:
But while he ftrove to tug th' inferted dart,
Agenor's javelin reach'd the hero's heart.
His flank, unguarded by his ample field,
Admits the lance: he falls, and (purns the field;
The nerves, unbrac'd, fupport his limbs no more;
The foul comes floating in a tide of gore.
Trojans and Greeks now gather round the flain;
The war renews, the warriors bleed again;
As o'er their prey rapacious wolves engage,
Man dies on man, and all is blood and rage.
In blooming youth fair Simoïfius fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the fhades of hell:
Fair Simoïfius, whom his mother bore,
Amid the flocks on filver Simois' fhore:
The nymph defcending from the hills of Ide,
To feek her parents on his flowery fide,
Brought forth the babe, their common care and
joy,

And thence from Simois nam'd the lovely boy.
Short was his date! by dreadful Ajax Дain
He falls, and renders all their cares in vain!
So fails a poplar, that in watery ground
Rais'd high the head, with ftately branchescrown'd,
(Feli'd by fome artift with his shining steel,
To fhape the circle of the bending wheel)
Cut down it lies, tall, fmooth and largely fpread,
With all its beauteous honours on its head;
There, left a fubject to the wind and rain,
And fcorch'd by funs, it withers on the plain,
Thus pierc'd by Ajax, Simoïfius lies
Stretch'd on the fhore, and thus neglected dies.
At Ajax Antiphus his javelin threw;
The pointed lance with erring fury flew,
And Leucus, lov'd by wife Ulyffes, flew.
He drops the corpfe of Simoïfius flain,
And finks a breathlefs carcafe on the plain.
This law Ulyes, and with grief enrag'd
Strode where the foremost of the foes engag'd;
Arm'd with his fpear, he meditates the wound,
In act to throw; but, cautious, look'd around.
Struck at his fight the Trojans backward drew,
And trembling heard the javelin as it flew.
A chief ftood nigh, who from Abydos came,
Old Priam's fon, Democcön was his name;
The weapon enter'd clofe above his ear,
Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear;
With piercing threaks the youth refigns his breath,
His eye-balls darken with the fhades of death;
Ponderous he falls; his clanging arms refound;
And his broad buckler rings against the ground.
Seiz'd with affright the boldeft foes appear;
Ev'n godlike Hector feems himfelf to fear;
+ Elphenor.

Slow he gave way, the reft tumultuous fled;
The Greeks with fhouts prefs on and spoil the dead:
But Phoebus now from Ilion's towering height
Shines forth reveal'd, and animates the fight.
Trojans, be bold, and force with force oppofe;
Your foaming fteeds urge headlong on the foes!
Nor are their bodies rocks, nor ribb'd with steel;
Your weapons enter, and your ftrokes they feel.
Have you forgot what feem'd your dread before 2
The great, the fierce Achilles tights no more.

Apollo thus from Ilion's lofty towers
Array'd in terrors, rouz'd the Trojan powers:
While War's fierce Goddefs fires the Grecian foe,
And fhouts and thunders in the fields below.
Then great Diores, fell by doom divine,
In vain his valour, and illuftrious line.
A broken rock the force of Pirus threw
(Who from cold Ænus led the Thracian crew);
Full on his ankle dropt the ponderous stone,
Burft the strong nerves, and crafh'd the folid bone.
Supine he tumbles on the crimson fands,
Before his helpless friends and native bands,
And spreads for aid his unavailing hands.
The foe rufh'd furious as he pants for breath,
And through his navel drove the pointed death:
His gufhing entrails fmok'd upon the ground,
And the warm life came iffuing from the wound.
His lance bold Thoes at the conqueror fent,
Deep in his breaft above the pap it went.
Amid the lungs was fix'd the winged wood,
And quivering in his heaving bofom stood:
Till from the dying chief, approaching near,
Th' Ætolian warrior tugg'd his weighty spear:
Then fudden wav'd his flaming faulchion round,
And gafh'd his belly with a ghaitly wound,
The corpfe now breathlefs on the bloody plain,
To spoil his arms the victor ftrove in vain;
The Thracian bands against the victor preft;
grove of lances glitter'd at his breast.
Stern Thoas, glaring with revengeful eyes,
In fullen fury flowly quits the prize.
Thus fell two heroes; one the pride of Thrace,
And one the leader of the Epian race:
Death's fable fhade at once o'er caft their eyes,
In duft the vanquish'd, and the victor lies.
With copious flaughter all the fields are red,
And heap'd with growing mountains of the dead.

A

Had fome brave chief this martial fcene beheld, By Pallas guarded through the dreadful field; Might darts be bid to turn their points away, And fwords around him innocently play; The war's whole art, with wonder had he feen, And counted heroes where he counted men. So fought each hoft with thirst of glory fir'd, And crowds on crowds triumphantly expir'd.

The first battle continues through this book.

Bur Pallas now Tydides' foul inspires,
Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires,
Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise,
And crown her hero with distinguish'd praise.'
High on his helm celeftial lightnings play,
His beamy fhield emits a living ray;
Th' unweary'd blaze inceffant streams fupplies,
Like the red ftar that fires th' autumnal skies,
When fresh he rears his radiant orb to fight,
And, bath'd in Ocean, shoots a keener light.
Such glories Pallas on the chief bestow'd,
Such, from his arms, the fierce effulgence flow'd:
Onward the drives him, furious to engage,
Where the fight burns, and where the thickeft
rage.

The fons of Dares first the combat fought,
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault;
In Vulcan's fane the father's days were led,
The fons to toils of glorious battle bred;
Thefe fingled from their troops the fight maintain,
Thefe from their steeds, Tydides on the plain.
Fierce for renown the brother chiefs draw near,
And firft bold Phegus caft his founding fpear,
Which o'er the warrior's fhoulder took its courfe,
And spent in empty air its erring force.
Not fo, Tydides, flew thy lance in vain,

But pierc'd his breast, and stretch'd him on the Seiz'd with unufual fear, Idæus fled,

[plain.

Left the rich chariot, and his brother dead,
And, had not Vulcan lent his celestial aid,
He too had funk to death's eternal shade;
But in a fmoky cloud the God of fire
Preferv'd the fon, in pity to the fire.
The fteeds and chariot, to the navy led,
Encreas'd the spoils of gallant Diomed.
Struck with amaze and fhame, the Trojan crew
Or flain, or fled, the fons of Dares view;
When by the blood-ftain'd hand Minerva preft
The God of battles, and this fpeech addreft:
Stern power of war! by whom the mighty fall,
Who bathe in blood, and shake the lofty wall!
Let the brave chiefs their glorious toils divide;
And whofe the conqueft mighty Jove decide;
While we from interdicted fields retire,
Nor tempt the wrath of heaven's avenging Sire.
Her words allay'd the impetuous warrior's heat,
The God of Arms and Martial Maid retreat;
Remov'd from fight, on Xanthus' flowery bounds
They fat, and liftened to the dying founds.
Mean time the Greeks the Trojan race purfue,
And fome bold chieftain every leader flew :
Firft Odius falls, and bites the bloody fand,
His death ennobled by Atrides' hand;
As he to flight his wheeling car addrest,
The fpeedy javelin drove from back to breaft.
In duft the mighty Halizonian lay,
His arms refound, the ipirit wings its way.

Thy fate was next, O Phæftus! doom'd to feel The great Idomeneus' portended steel; Whom Borus fent (his fon, and only joy) From fruitful Tarne to the fields of Troy. The Cretan javelin reach'd him from afar, And pierc'd his shoulder as he mounts his car; Back from the car he tumbles to the ground, And everlasting shades his eyes furround.

Then dy'd Scamandrius, expert in the chase, In woods and wilds to wound the favage race: Diana taught him all her Sylvan arts, To bend the bow, and aim unerring darts: But vainly here Diana's arts he tries, The fatal lance arrests him as he flies; From Menelaus' arm the weapon fent, Through his broad back and heaving bofom

went:

Down finks the warrior with a thundering found,
His brazen armour rings against the ground.

Next artful Phereclus untimely fell;
Bold Merion fent him to the realms of hell.
Thy father's fkill, O Phereclus, was thine,
The graceful fabric and the fair design;
For, lov'd by Pallas, Pallas did impart
To him the shipwright's and the builder's art.
Beneath his hand the fleet of Paris role,
The fatal cause of all his country's woes;
But he, the mystic will of Heaven unknown,
Nor faw his country's peril, nor his own.
The hapless artift, while confus'd he fled,
The fpear of Merion mingled with the dead,
Through his right hip with forceful fury cait,
Between the bladder and the bone it past:
Prone on his knees he falls with fruitless cries,
And death, in lafting flumber feals his eyes.

From Meges' force the fwift Pedzus fled,
Antenor's offspring from a foreign bed,
Whofe generous spouse, Theano, heavenly fair,
Nurs'd the young ftranger with a mother's care.
How vain thofe cares! when Meges in the rear
Full in his nape infix'd the fatal fpear!
Swift through his crackling jaws the weapon
glides,

And the cold tongue the grinning teeth divides.
Then dy'd Hypíenor, generous and divine,
Sprung from the brave Dolopian's mighty line,
Who near ador'd Scamander made abode,
Prieft of the stream, and honour'd as a God.
On him, amidst the flying numbers found,
Eurypylus inflicts a deadly wound;

On his broad fhoulders fell the forceful brand,
Then glancing downward lopp'd his holy hand,
Which stain'd with facred blood the blufhing fand.
Down funk the priest; the purple hand of death
Clos'd his dim eye, and fate fupprefs'd his breath.
Thus toil'd the chiefs, in different parts engag'd
In every quarter fierce Tydides rag'd,

Amid the Greek, amid the Trojan train,
Rapt through the ranks, he thunders o'er the
plain:
[place,
Now here, now there, he darts from place to
Pours on the rear, or lightens in their face.
Thus from high hills the torrents swift and ftrong
Deluge whole fields, and sweep the trees along,
Through ruin'd moles the rushing wave refounds,
O'erwhelms the bridge, and bursts the lofty
The yellow harvests of the ripen'd year, [bounds.
And flatted vineyards, one fad wafte appear!
While Jove descends in fluicy sheets of rain,
And all the labours of mankind are vain.

So rag'd Tydides, boundless in his ire,
Drove armies back, and made all Troy retire.
With grief the † leader of the Lycian band
Saw the wide waste of his destructive hand :
His bended bow against the chief he drew ;
Swift to the mark the thirty arrow flew,
Whofe forky point the hollow breaft-plate tore,
Deep in his thoulder pierc'd, and drank the gore:
The rushing ftream his brazen armour dy'd,
While the proud archer thus exulting cry'd:

Hither, ye Trojans, hither drive your steeds!
Le! by our hand the bravest Grecian bleeds.
Not long the dreadful dart he can sustain;
Or Phœbus urg'd me to thefe fields in vain.

So spoke he, boastful; but the winged dart
Stopt fhort of life, and mock'd the shooter's art.
The wounded chief, behind his car retir'd,
The helping hand of Sthenelus requir'd;
Swift from his feat he leap'd upon the ground,
And tugg'd the weapon from the gushing wound;
When thus the king his guardian power addreft,
The purple current wandering o'er his veft:

O progeny of Jove! unconquer'd maid!
If e'er my godlike Sire deferv'd thy aid,
If e'er I felt thee in the fighting field,
Now, Goddess, now thy facred fuccour yield.
Oh give my lance to reach the Trojan knight,
Whofe arrow wounds the chief thou guard'ft in
And lay the boafter grovelling on the fhore, [fight;
That vaunts thefe eyes fhall view the light no more.
Thus pray'd Tydides, and Minerva heard;
His nerves confirm'd, his languid fpirits cheer'd,
He feels each limb with wonted vigour light;
His beating bofom claims the promis'd fight.
Be bold (the cry'd) in every combat shine,
War be thy province, thy protection mine;
Ruth to the fight, and every foe controul;
Wake each paternal virtue in thy foul:
Strength fwells thy boiling breait, infus'd by me,
And all thy godlike father breathes in thee!
Yet more, from mortal mitts I purge thy eyes,
And fet to view the warring Deities. [plain,
These fee thou fhun, through all th' embattled
Nor rafhly strive where human force is vain.
If Venus mingle in the martial band,
Her fhalt thou wound: fo Pallas gives command.
With that, the blue-ey'd virgin wing'd her
flight:

The hero rush'd impetuous to the fight;
With tenfold ardour now invades the plain,
Wild with delay, and more enrag'd by pain.
As on the fleecy flocks, when hunger calls,
Amidst the field a brindled lion falls;
† Pandarus,

Then leaps victorious o'er the lofty mound.
Not with lefs fury ftern Tydides flew ;
And two brave leaders at an instant slew:
Aftynous breathlefs fell, and by his fide
His people's paftor, good Hypenor, dy'd;
Aftynous' breaft the deadly iance receives,
Hypenor's fhoulder his broad faulchion cleaves,
Those flain he left; and iprung with noble rage
Abas and Polyïdus to engage;

Sons of Eurydamus, who, wife and old,
Cquid fates forefee, and myftic dreams unfold;
The youths return'd not from the doubtful plain,
And the fad father try'd his arts in vain ;
No myftic dream could make their fates appear,
Though now deterinin'd by Tydides spear.

Young Xanthus next, and Thoön felt his rage;
The joy and hope of Phænops' feeble age;
Vait was his wealth, and these the only heirs
Of all his labours, and a life of cares.
Cold death o'ertakes them in their blooming years
And leaves the father unavailing tears:
To strangers now defcend his heapy store,
The race forgotten, and the name no more.
Two fons of Priam in one chariot ride
Glittering in arms, and combat fide by fide.
As when the lordly lion feeks his food
Where grazing heifers range the lonely wood,
He leaps amidit them with a furious bound,
Bends their strong necks, and tears them to the

ground:

So from their feats the brother chiefs are torn,
Their fteeds and chariot to the navy borne.
With deep concern divine Eneas view'd
The foe prevailing, and his friends pursued,
Through the thick ftorm of finging spears he flies,
Exploring Pandarus with careful eyes,
At length he found Lycaon's mighty ton;
To whom the chief of Venus' race begun:
Where, Pandarus, are all thy honours now,
Thy winged arrows, and unerring bow,
Thy matchlefs fkill, thy yet unrivall'd fame,
And boafted glory of the Lycian name?
Oh pierce that mortal: if we mortal call

That wondrous force by which whole armies

fall;

Or God incens'd, who quits the distant skies
To punish Troy for flighted facrifice;
(Which, oh, avert from our unhappy state!
For what fo dreadful as celeftiai hate?)
Whoe'er he be, propitiate Jove with prayer;
If man destroy; if God, entreat to spare.

To him the Lycian: Whom your eyes behold,
If right I judge, is Diomed the bold!
Such couriers whirl him o'er the dusty field,
So towers his helmet, and fo flames his shield.
If 'tis a God, he wears that chief's disguise;
Or if that chief, fome guardian of the ikies
Involv'd in clouds, protects him in the fray,
And turns unfeen the fruftrate dart away.
I wing'd an arrow, which not idly fell,
The ftroke had fix'd him to the gates of hell;

And, but fome God, fome angry God withstands,
His fate was due to these unerring hands.
Skill'd in the bow, on foot I fought the war,
Nor join'd fwift horfes to the rapid car.
Ten polifh'd chariots I poffefs'd at home,
And still they grace Lycaon's princely dome :
There veil'd in fpacious coverlets they stand;
And twice ten courfers wait their lord's command.
The good old warrior bade me trust to these,
When first for Troy I fail'd the facred feas;
In fields aloft the whirling car to guide,
And through the ranks of death triumphant ride :
But vain with youth, and yet to thrift inclin'd,
I heard his counfels with unheedful mind,

And thought the steeds (your large supplies unknown)

Might fail of forage in the ftraiten'd town:
So took my bow and pointed darts in hand,
And left the chariots in my native land.

Too late, O friend! my rafhnefs I deplore;
These fhafts, once fatal, carry death no more,
Tydeus' and Atreus' fons their points have found,
And undiffembled gore pursued the wound.
In vain they bled: this unavailing bow
Serves, not to flaughter, but provoke the foe.
In evil hour thefe bended horns I ftrung.
And feiz'd the quiver where it idly hung.
Curs'd be the fate that fent me to the field
Without a warrior's arms, the fpear and shield;
If e'er with life I quit the Trojan plain,
If e'er I fee my fpoufe and fire again,
This bow, unfaithful to my glorious aims,
Broke by my hand, fhall feed the blazing flames.
To whom the leader of the Dardan race:
Be calm, nor Phoebus' honour'd gift disgrace.
The diftant dart be prais'd, though here we need
The ruthing chariot, and the bounding steed.
Against you hero let us bend our courfe,

And, hand to hand, encounter force with force.
Now mount my feat, and from the chariot's height
Obferve my father's fteeds, renown'd in fight,
Practis'd alike to turn, to ftop, to chafe,
To dare the fhock, or urge the rapid race:
Secure with thefe, through fighting fields we go;
Or fafe to Troy, if Jove alift the foe.
Hafte, feize the whip, and fnatch the guiding rein;
The warrior's fury let this arm fuftain;
Or, if to combat thy bold heart incline,
Take thou the fpear, the chariot's care be mine.

O prince! (Lycaon's valiant fon replied)
As thine the feeds, be thine the talk to guide.
The horses, practis'd to their lord's command,
Shall bear the rein, and aufwer to thy hand,
But if, unhappy, we detert the fight,
Thy voice alone can animate their flight:
Elfe fhall our fates be number'd with the dead,
And thefe the victor's prize, in triumph led.
Thine be the guidance then: with fpear and shield
Myfelf will charge this terror of the field.

And now buth heroes mount the glittering car; The bounding courfers rush amidst the war. Their fierce approach bold Sthenelus efpy'd, Who thus, alarm'd to great Tydides cry'd:

O friend! two chiefs of force immenfe I fee, Dreadful they come, and bend their rage on thee: Lo the brave heir of bold Lycaon's line, And great nens, fprung from race divine!

Enough is given to fame. Afcend thy car;
And fave a life, the bulwark of our war.
At this the hero caft a gloomy look,
Fix'd on the chief with fcorn; and thus he fpoke:
Me doit thou bid to fhun the coming fight?
Me would't thou move to bafe, inglorious flight?
Know, 'tis not honeft in my foul to fear,
Not was Tydides born to tremble here.

I hate the cumbrous chariot's flow advance,
And the long distance of the flying lance;
But while my nerves are ftrong, my force entire,
Thus front the foe, and emulate my fire.
Nor fhali yon steeds that fierce to fight convey
Those threatening heroes, bear them both away;
One chief at least beneath this arm hall die;
So Pallas tells me, and forbids to fly.
But if the dooms, and if no God withstand,
That both fhall fall by one victorious hand;
Then heed my words: my horses here detain,
Fix'd to the chariot by the ftraiten'd rein;
Swift to Æneas empty feat proceed,
And feize the couriers of atherial breed:
The race of thofe, which once the thundering God
For ravifh'd Ganymede on Tros bestow'd,
The best that e'er on earth's broad fuiface run,
Beneath the rifing or the fetting fun.
Hence great Anchifes ftole a breed, unknown
By mortal mares, from fierce Laomedon;
Four of this race his ample ftalls contain,
And two tranfport Eneas o'er the plain.
Thefe, were the rich immortal prize our own,
Through the wide world thould make our glory
known.

Thus while they spoke the foe came furious on, And fern Lycaon's warlike race begun:

Prince, thou art met. Though late in vain affail'd, The fpear may enter where the arrow tail'd.. He said, then fhook the ponderous lance; and

Alung;

On his broad fhield the founding weapon rung,
Pierc'd the tough orb, and in his cuirass hung.
He bleeds! the pride of Greece! (the boaiter cries)
Our triumph now the mighty warrior lies!
Miftaken vaunter! Diomed reply'd;
Thy dart has err'd, and now my spear be try'd:
Ye 'fcape not both; one, headlong from his car,
With hoftile blood fhall glut the God of war.

He fpoke, and rifing hurl'd his forceful dart,
Which, driven by Pallas, pierc'd a vital part;
Full in his face it enter'd, and betwixt
The note and eye-ball the proud Lycian fixt;
Crafh'd all his jaws, and cleft the tongue within,
Till the bright point look'd out beneath the chin.
Headlong he falls, his helmet knocks the ground;
Earth groans beneath him, and his arms refound;
The ftarting courfers tremble with affright;
The foul indignant feeks the realms of night.

To guard his flaughter'd friend, Aneas flies,
His fpear e ending where the carcale lies;
Watchful wheels, protects it every way,
As the grim lion ftaiks around his prey.

O'er the fall'n trunk his ample shield display'd,
He hides the hero with his mighty fhade,
And threats aloud: the Greeks with longing eyes
Behold at diftance, but forbear the prize.
Then fierce Tydides ftoops; and from the fields,
Heav'd with vast force, a rocky fragment wields,

Not two ftrong men th' enormous weight could
Such men as live in these degenerate days. [raife,
He fwung it round; and, gathering strength to
throw,

Difcharg'd the ponderous ruin at the foe.
Where to the hip th' inserted thigh unites,
Full on the bone the pointed marble lights;
Through both the tendons broke the rugged ftone,
And tripp'd the skin, and crack'd the fold bone.
Sunk on his knees, and staggering with his pains,
His falling balk his bended arm fuitains;
Loft in a dizzy mift the warrior lies;

A fudden cloud comes fwimming o'er his eyes.
There the brave chief who mighty numbers fway'd,
Oppreis'd had funk to death's eternal shade;
But heavenly Venus, mindful of the love
She bore Anchifes in th' Idæan grove,
His danger views with anguish and despair,
And guards her offspring with a mother's care.
About her much-lov'd fon her arms the throws,
Her arms whofe whiteness match the failing fnows.
Screen' from the foe behind her shining veil,
The fwords wave harmless, and the javelins fail:
Safe through the rushing horse, and feather'd flight
Of founding fhafts, the bears him from the fight.
Nor Sthenelus, with unaffifting hands,
Remain'd unheedful of his lord's commands:
His panting steeds, remov'd from out the war,
He fix'd with ftraiten'd traces to the car.
Next rushing to the Dardan fpoil, detains
The heavenly courfers with the flowing manes:
Thefe, in proud triumph to the fleet convey'd,
No longer now a Trojan lord obey'd,
That charge to bold Deïpylus he gave,
(Whom most he lov'd, as brave men love the brave)
Then mounting on his car, refum'd the rein,
And follow'd where Tydides fwept the plain.
Mean while (his conquest ravish'd from his eyes)
The raging chief in chafe of Venus flies:
No Goddess the commiffion'd to the field,
Like Pallas dreadful with her fable shield,
Or fierce Bellona, thundering at the wall,
While flames afcend, and mighty ruins fall;
He knew foft combats fuit the tender dame,
New to the field. and ftill a foe to fame.
Through breaking ranks his furious courfe he bends,
And at the Goddefs his broad lance extends;
Through her bright veil the daring weapon drove,
Th' ambrofial veil which all the Graces wove;
Her fnowy hand the razing steel profan'd,
And the tranfparent skin with crimson ftain'd.
From the clear vein a stream immortal flow'd,
Such ftream as iffues from a wounded God:
Pure emanation: uncorrupred flood;
Unlike our grofs, difeas'd, terrestrial blood
(For not the bread of man their life sustains,
Nor wine's inflaming juice supplies their veins.)
With tender fhrieks the Goddefs fill'd the place,
And droop'd her offspring from her weak embrace.
Him Phoebus took: he cafts cloud around
The fainting chief, and wards the mortal wound.

Then, with a voice that shook the vaulted skies,
The king infults the Goddess as the flies.
Ill with Jove's daughter bloody fights agree,
The field of combat is no scene for thee:
Go, let thy own foft fex employ thy care,
Go, lull the coward, or delude the fair,

Taught by this stroke, renounce the war's alarms, And learn to tremble at the name of arms.

Tydides thus: The Goddefs feiz'd with dread,
Confus'd, diftracted, from the conflict fled,
To aid her, fwift the winged Iris flew,
Wrapt in a mift above the warring crew.
The Queen of Love with faded charms the found,
Pale was her cheek, and livid look'd the wound.
To Mars, who fat remote, they bent their way,
Far on the left, with clouds involv'd he lay;
Befide him stood his lance, diftain'd with gore,
And, rein'd with gold, his foaming steeds before.
Low at his knee, he begg'd, with ftreaming eyes,
Her brother's car, to mount the distant skies,
And fhow'd the wound by fierce Tydides given,
A mortal man who dares encounter Heaven.
Stern Mars attentive hears the queen complain,
And to her hand commits the golden rein;
She mounts the feat, opprefs'd with filent woe,
Driven by the Goddess of the painted bow,
The lath refounds, the rapid chariot flies,
And in a moment fcales the lofty skies:
There ftopp'd the car, and there the courfers ftood,
Fed by fair Iris with ambrofial food.

Before her mother, Love's bright Queen appears,
O'erwhelm'd with anguish, and diffolv'd in tears;
She rais'd her in her arms, beheld her bleed,
And afk'd, what God had wrought this guilty deed?
Then the: This infult from no God i found,
An impious mortal gave the daring wound!
Behold the deed of haughty Diomed!
'Twas in the fon's defence the mother bled,
The war with Troy no more the Grecians wage,
But with the Gods (th' immortal Gods) engage.
Dione then: Thy wrongs with patience bear,
And share thofe griefs inferior powers must fliare:
Unnumber'd woes mankind from us fuftain,
And men with woes afflict the Gods again.
The mighty Mars in mortal fetters bound,
And lodg'd in brazen dungeons under ground,
Full thirteen moons imprifon'd roar'd in vain;
Otus and Ephialtes held the chain :
Perhaps had perish'd; had not Hermes' care
Reftor'd the groaning God to upper air.
Great Juno's felf has bore her weight of pain,
Th' imperial partner of the heavenly reign;
Amphitryon's fon infix'd the deadly dart,
And fill'd with anguifh her immortal heart.
Ev'n hell's grim king Alcides' power confefs'd
The fhaft found entrance in his iron breast;
To Jove's high palace for a cure he fled,
Pierc'd in his own dominions of the dead;
Where Paon, fprinkling heavenly balm around,
Atuag'd the glowing pangs, and clos'd the wound,
Rath, impious man! to ftain the blefs'd abodes,
And drench his arrows in the blood of Gods!

But thou (though Pallas urg'd thy frantic deed) Whofe fpear ill-fated makes a Goddess bleed, Know thou, whoe'er with heavenly power con

tends,

Short is his date, and foon his glory ends;
From fields of death when late the fhall retire,
No infant on his knees thall call him Sire.
Strong as thou art, fome God may yet be found,
To stretch thee pale and gafping on the ground;
Thy diftant wife, Ægiale the fair,
Starting from fleep with a distracted air,