The hopes of your return! and can you yield,
For a sav'd fleet, less than a single shield?
Think it no boast, O Grecians, if I deem
These arms want Ajax, more than Ajax them,
Or, I with them an equal honour share;
They honour'd to be worn, and I to wear.
Will he compare my courage with his flight?
As well he may compare the day with night.
Night is indeed the province of his reign:
Yet all his dark exploits no more contain
Than a spy taken, and a sleeper slain;
A priest made pris'ner, Pallas made a prey:
But none of all these actions done by day:
Nor aught of these was done, and Diomede
away.

If on such petty merits you confer
So vast a prize, let each his portion share;
Make a just dividend: and if not all,
The greater part to Diomede will fall.
But why for Ithacus such arms as those,
Who naked and by night invades his foes?
The glittering helm by moonlight will proclaim
The latent robber, and prevent his game:
Nor could he hold his tott'ring head upright
Beneath that motion, or sustain the weight;
Nor that right arm could toss the beamy lance;
Much less the left that ampler shield advance;
Pond'rous with precious weight, and rough with

cost

Of the round world in rising gold emboss'd.
That orb would ill become his hand to wield,
And look as for the gold he stole the shield;
Which should your error on the wretch bestow
It would not frighten, but allure the foe:
Why asks he what avails him not in fight,
And would but cumber and retard his flight,
In which his only excellence is plac'd?
You give him death, that intercept his haste
Add, that his own is yet a maiden shield,
Nor the least dint has suffer'd in the field,
Guiltless of fight: mine batter'd, hew'd, and
bor'd,

Worn out of service, must forsake his lord.
What farther need of words our right to scan?
My arguments are deeds, let action speak the

man.

Since from a champion's arms the strife arose,
So cast the glorious prize amid the foes;
Then send us to redeem both arms and shield,
And let him wear who wins 'em in the field.
He said: a murmur from the multitude,
Or somewhat like a stifled shout, ensu'd :
Till from his seat arose Laertes' son,
Look'd down a while, and paus'd ere he begun;
Then to the expecting audience rais'd his look,
And not without prepar'd attention spoke :
Soft was his tone, and sober was his face;
Action his words, and words his action grace.

If heaven, my lords, had heard our common
pray'r,

These arms had caus'd no quarrel for an heir;
Still great Achilles had his own possess'd
And we with great Achilles had been bless'd.
But since hard fate, and heaven's severe decree,
Have ravish'd him away from you and me,
(At this he sigh'd, and wip'd his eyes, and drew,
Or seem'd to draw, some drops of kindly dew ;)
Who better can succeed Achilles lost,
Than he who gave Achilles to your host?
This only I request, that neither he
May gain, by being what he seems to be,
A stupid thing, nor I may lose the prize,
By having sense, which heaven to him denies.
Since, great, or small, the talent I enjoy'd
Was ever in the common cause employ'd;
Nor let my wit, and wonted eloquence,
Which often has been us'd in your defence
And in my own, this only time be brought
To bear against myself, and deem'd a fault.
Make not a crime, where nature made it none
For every man may freely use his own.
The deeds of long descended ancestors
Are but by grace of imputation ours,
Theirs in effect: but since he draws his line
From Jove, and seems to plead a right divine;"
From Jove like him, I claim my pedigree,
And am descended in the same degree:
My sire Laertes was Arcesius' heir,
Arcesius was the son of Jupiter:
No parricide, no banish'd man, is known
In all my line: let him excuse his own.
Hermes ennobles too my mother's side,
By both my parents to the gods allied;
But not because that on the female part
My blood is better, dare I claim desert,
Or that my sire from parricide is free,
But judge by merit betwixt him and me:
The prize be to the best; provided yet,
That Ajax for a while his kin forget,
And his great sire, and greater uncle's name,
To fortify by them his feeble claim:
Be kindred and relation laid aside,
And honour's cause by laws of honour tried.
For, if he plead proximity of blood,
That empty title is with ease withstood.
Peleus, the hero's sire, more nigh than he,
And Pyrrhus his undoubted progeny,
Inherit first these trophies of the field;
To Scyros, or to Phthia, send the shield:
And Teucer has an uncle's right; yet he
Waves his pretensions, nor contends with me.
Then, since the cause on pure desert is

plac'd,

Whence shall I take my rise, what reckon las ?
I not presume on every act to dwell,
But take these few in order as they fell.

Dismay'd the council met: this man was there,
But mute, and not recover'd of his fear:
Thersites tax'd the king, and loudly rail'd,
But his wide opening mouth with blows I seal'd.
Then rising, I excite their souls to fame,
And kindle sleeping virtue into flame,

From thence, whatever he perform'd in fight
Is justly mine, who drew him back from flight.
Which of the Grecian chiefs consorts with
thee?

But Diomede desires my company,
And still communicates his praise with me.
As guided by a god, secure he goes,
Arin'd with my fellowship, amid the foes:
And sure no little merit I may boast,
Whom such a man selects from such an host;
Unforc'd by lots I went without affright,
To dare with him the dangers of the night:
On the same errand sent, we met the spy
Of Hector, double tongu'd, and us'd to lie;
Him I despatch'd, but not till, undermin'd,
I drew him first to tell what treacherous Troy
design'd:

My task perform'd, with praise I had retir'd, But not content with this, to greater praise aspir'd;

Invaded Rhesus, and his Thracian crew,
And him, and his, in their own strength, I slew;
Return'd a victor, all my vows complete,
With the king's chariot, in his royal seat:
Refuse me now his arms, whose fiery steed
Were promis'd to the spy for his nocturnal
deeds:

And let dull Ajax bear away my right,
When all his days outbalance this one night.

Nor fought I darkling still: the sun beheld With slaughter'd Lycians when I strew'd the

field:

You saw, and counted as I pass'd along,
Alastor, Cromius, Ceranos the strong,
Alcander, Prytanis, and Halius,
Noemon, Charopes, and Ennomus
Choon, Chersidamas; and five beside,
Men of obscure descent, but courage tried:
All these this hand laid breathless on the
ground;

Nor want I proofs of many a manly wound:
All honest, all before: believe not me ;
Words may deceive, but credit what you see.

At this he bar'd his breast, and show'd his
scars,

As of a furrow'd field, well plough'd with wars;
Nor is this part unexercis'd, said he ;
The giant bulk of his from wounds is free:
Safe in his shield he fears no foe to try,
And better manages his blood than I:

But this avails me not; our boaster strove
Not with our foes alone, but partial Jove,

To save the fleet: this I confoss is true,
(Nor will I take from any man his due :)
But thus assuming all, he robs from you.
Some part of honour to your share will fall,
He did the best indeed, but did not all.
Patroclus, in Achilles' arms, and thought
The chief he seem'd, with equal ardour fought
Preserv'd the fleet, repell'd the raging fire,
And forc'd the fearful Trojans to retire.

But Ajax boasts, that he was only thought
A match for Hector, who the combat sought
Sure he forgets the king, the chiefs, and me;
All were as eager for the fight as he;
He but the ninth, and, not by public voice
Or ours preferr'd, was only fortune's choice:
They fought, nor can our hero boast th' event,
For Hector from the field unwounded went.

Why am I forc'd to name that fatal day, That snatch'd the prop and pride of Greece away?

I saw Pelides sink, with pious grief,
And ran in vain, alas! to his relief;
For the brave soul was fled: full of my friend
I rush'd amid the war, his relics to defend :
Nor ceas'd my toil till I redeem'd the prey,
And, loaded with Achilles, march'd away :
Those arms, which on these shoulders then I
bore,

'T is just you to these shoulders should restore.
You see I want not nerves, who could sustain
The pond'rous ruins of so great à man:
Or if in others equal force you find,
None is endu'd with a more grateful mind.

Did Thetis then, ambitious in her care, These arms thus labour'd for her son prepare; That Ajax after him the heav'nly gift should wear?

For that dull soul to stare, with stupid eyes,
On the learn'd unintelligible prize!
What are to him the sculptures of the shield,
Heaven's planets, earth, and ocean's wat'ry
field?

The Pleiads, Hyads; less and greater Bear,
Undipp'd in seas; Orion's angry star;
Two diffring cities, grav'd on either hand?
Would he wear arms he cannot understand?
Beside, what wise objections he prepares
Against my late accession to the wars?
Does not the fool perceive his argument
Is with more force against Achilles bent?
For, if dissembling be so great a crime,
The fault is common, and the same in him
And if he taxes both of long delay
My guilt is less, who sooner came away
His pious mother, anxious for his life,
Detain'd her son; and me, my pious wife.
To them the blossoms of our youth were due:
Our riper manhood we reserv'd for you.

But grant me guilty, 't is not much my care, When with so great a man my guilt I share : My wit to war the matchless hero brought, But by this fool he never had been caught.

Nor need I wonder, that on me he threw Such foul aspersions, when he spares not you: If Palamede unjustly fell by me,

Your honour suffer'd in th' unjust decree :
I but accus'd, you doom'd: and yet he died,
Convinc'd of treason, and was fairly tried:
You heard not he was false; your eyes beheld
The traitor manifest; the bribe reveal'd.

That Philoctetes is on Lemnos left,
Wounded, forlorn, of human aid bereft,
Is not my crime, or not my crime alone;
Defend your justice, for the fact's your own:
'Tis true, the advice was mine: that staying

there

He might his weary limbs with rest repair, From a long voyage free, and from a longer

war.

He took the counsel, and he lives at least ; The event declares I counsell'd for the best: Though faith is all in ministers of state; For who can promise to be fortunate? Now since his arrows are the fate of Troy, Do not my wit, or weak address, employ; Send Ajax there, with his persuasive sense, To mollify the man, and draw him thence: 'But Xanthus shall run backward; Ida stand A leafless mountain; and the Grecian band Shall fight for Troy; if, when my counsels fail, The wit of heavy Ajax can prevail.

Hard Philoctetes, exercise thy spleen Against thy fellows, and the king of men ; Curse my devoted head, above the rest, And wish in arms to meet me breast to breast: Yet I the dangerous task wiii undertake, And either die myself, or bring thee back.

Nor doubt the same success, as when before The Phrygian prophet to these tents I bore, Surpris'd by night, and forc'd him to declare In what was plac'd the fortune of the war; Heaven's dark decrees and answers to display, And how to take the town, and where the se

Not only through a hostile town to pass,
But scale, with steep ascent, the sacred place,
With wand'ring steps to search the citadel,
And from the priests their patroness to steal:
Then through surrounding foes to force my way,
And bear in triumph home the heavenly prey;
Which had I not, Ajax in vain had held,
Before that monstrous bulk, his sevenfold shield.
Tha: night to conquer Troy I might be said,
When Troy was liable to conquest made.
Why point'st thou to my partner of the war?
Tydides had indeed a worthy share
In all my toil, and praise; but when thy might
Our ships protected, didst thou singly fight?
All join'd, and thou of many wert but one;
I ask'd no friend, nor had, but him alone;
Who, had he not been well assur'd, that art
And conduct were of war the better part,
And more avail'd than strength, my valiant
friend

Had urg'd a better right, than Ajax can pretond:

As good at least Eurypylus may claim
And the more moderate Ajax of the name:
The Cretan king, and his brave charioteer,
And Menelaus bold with sword and spear;
All these had been my rivals in the shield,
And yet all these to my pretensions yield.
Thy boist'rous hands are then of use, when I
With this directing head those hands apply
Brawn without brain is thine: my prudent care
Foresees, provides, administers the war:
Thy province is to fight; but when shall be
The time to fight, the king consults with me:
No dram of judgment with thy force is join'd
Thy body is of profit, and my mind.
By how much more the ship her safety owes
To him who steers, than him that only rows,
By how much more the captain merits praise
Than he who fights, and fighting but obeys;
By so much greater is my worth than thine,
Who canst but excute what I design.
What gain'st thou, brutal man, if I confess
Thy strength superior, when thy wit is less?
Mind is the man: I claim my whole desert
From the mind's vigour, and the immortal part.

But you, O Grecian chiefs, reward my care,
Be grateful to your watchman of the war :
For all my labours in so 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 tottering towers,
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.

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 madness, and disdain;
Then snatching out his falchion, Thou, said he,
Art mine; Ulysses lays no claim to thee.
O often tried, and ever trusty sword,
Now do thy last kind office to thy lord:
'Tis Ajax who requests thy aid, to show
None but himself himself could overthrow.
He said, and with so good a will to die
Did to his breast 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, so fix'd it stood,
Till out it rush'd, expell'd by streams of spout-
ing blood.

The fruitful blood produc'd a flow'r, which grew
On a green stem; and of a purple hue:
Like his, whom unaware Apollo slew.
Inscrib'd in both, the letters are the same,
But those express the grief, and these the name.

THE STORY OF ACIS, POLYPHEMUS, AND GALATEA.

When Polyphemus first disturb'd our joy,
And lov'd me fiercely, as I lov'd the boy.
Ask not which passion in my soul was higher,
My last aversion, or my first desire:
Nor this the greater was, nor that the less;
Both were alike, for both were in excess.
Thee, Venus, thee both heaven and earth obey;
Immense thy power, and boundless is thy sway.
The Cyclops, who defied th' ethereal throne,
And thought no thunder louder than his own
The terror of the woods, and wilder far
Than wolves in plains, or bears in forests are,
Th' inhuman host, who made his bloody feast
On mangled members of his butcher'd guests,
Yet felt the force of love, and fierce desire,
And burnt for me with unrelenting fire:
Forgot his caverns, and his woolly care,
Assum'd the softness of a lover's air;
And comb'd, with teeth of rakes, his rugged hair.
Now with a crooked scythe his beard he sleeks,
And mows the stubborn stubble of his cheeks:
Now in the crystal stream he looks, to try
His simagres, and rolls his glaring eye.
His cruelty and thirst of blood are lost,
And ships securely sail along the coast.

The prophet Telemus (arriv'd by chance
Where Etna's summits to the seas advance,
Who mark'd the tracks of ev'ry bird that flew,
And sure presages from their flying drew)
Foretold the Cyclops, that Ulysses' hand
In his broad eye should thrust a flaming brand.
The giant, with a scornful grin replied,
Vain augur, thou hast falsely prophesied
Already Love his flaming brand has tost;
Looking on two fair eyes, my sight I lost.
Thus, warn'd in vain, with stalking pace he
strode,

And stamp'd the margin of the briny flood
With heavy steps; and, weary, sought again
The cool retirement of his gloomy den.

A promontory, sharpening by degrees,
Ends in a wedge, and overlooks the seas:
On either side, below, the water flows:
This airy walk the giant lover chose;
Here on the midst he sate; his flocks, unled,
Their shepherd follow'd, and securely fed.
A pine so burly, and of length so vast,

phoses.

Acrs, the lovely youth, whose loss 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. [seen;
Now sixteen summers the sweet youth had
And doubtful down began to shade his chin

He wielded for a staff, his steps to guide:
But laid it by, his whistle while he tried.
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 hiss resound.
I heard the ruffian sheperd rudely blow,
Where, in a hollow cave, I sat below;
On Acis' bosom I my head reclin'd:
And still preserve the poem in my mind.