B. X.] DEATH OF RHESUS. Arriving where the Thracian squadrons lay, 187 And eas'd in sleep the labours of the day. Ranged in three lines they view the prostrate band: Through the brown shade the fulgid weapons shin'd; 'Urge thou the slaughter, while I seize the steeds.' He falls, and foaming rends the guardless prey. Back by the foot each slaughter'd warrior drew; 545 550 555 560 565 570 Lest the fierce steeds, not yet to battles bred, Should start and tremble at the heaps of dead. 575 Now twelve despatch'd, the monarch last they found; Tydides' faulchion fix'd him to the ground. Just then a dreadful dream Minerva sent; A warlike form appear'd before his tent, 580 So dream'd the monarch, and awak’d no more. 585 Doubtful he stood, or with his reeking blade Enough, my son; from farther slaughter cease, The voice divine confess'd the martial maid; In haste he mounted, and her word obey'd; The coursers fly before Ulysses' bow, Swift as the wind, and white as winter snow. Not unobserv'd they pass'd: the god of light Saw Tydeus' son with heavenly succour bless'd, Had watch'd his Troy, and mark'd Minerva's flight, And vengeful anger fill'd his sacred breast. Meanwhile the chiefs arriving at the shade 590 595 600 605 610 615 620 The trophy, dropping yet with Dolon's gore: Then mounts again; again their nimble feet The coursers ply, and thunder towards the fleet. Old Nestor first perceiv'd th' approaching sound, 625 Bespeaking thus the Grecian peers around: 630 B. X.] ULYSSES AND DIOMED RETURN. 'Perhaps, e'en now pursued, they seek the shore; 'Or, oh! perhaps those heroes are no more.' 189 635 Scarce had he spoke, when lo! the chiefs appear, And spring to earth; the Greeks dismiss their fear: With words of friendship and extended hands They greet the kings; and Nestor first demands: 640 'Thou living glory of the Grecian name! Say, whence these coursers? by what chance bestow'd, 'Not those fair steeds so radiant and so gay, 'That draw the burning chariot of the day. 'Old as I am, to age I scorn to yield, 645 • And daily mingle in the martial field; 'But sure till now no coursers struck my sight 'Like these, conspicuous through the ranks of fight. 650 'The care of him who bids the thunder roar, And her, whose fury bathes the world with gore.' Father! not so: (sage Ithacus rejoin'd,) 'The gifts of heaven are of a nobler kind. 'Of Thracian lineage are the steeds ye view, "Whose hostile king the brave Tydides slew; 'Sleeping he died, with all his guards around, And twelve beside lay gasping on the ground. These other spoils from conquer'd Dolon came, 'A wretch, whose swiftness was his only fame; 'By Hector sent our forces to explore, 655 660 'He now lies headless on the sandy shore.' Then o'er the trench the bounding coursers flew ; The joyful Greeks with loud acclaim pursue. 665 Straight to Tydides' high pavilion borne, The matchless steeds his ample stalls adorn : The neighing coursers their new fellows greet, And the full racks are heap'd with generous wheat. Then in the polish'd bath, refresh'd from toil, 675 They sit rejoicing in her aid divine, And the crown'd goblet foams with floods of wine. • Minerva. 680 |