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Afham'd to fee a fingle Man, purfu'd

With odds, to fink beneath a Multitude:

We push'd the Foe; and forc'd to fhameful Flight; Part fell; and part efcap'd by favour of the Night.

This Tale by Neftor told, did much displease Tlepolemus, the Seed of Hercules:

For, often he had heard his Father say,
That he himself was present at the Fray;

And more than shar'd the Glories of the Day.
Old Chronicle, he said, among the rest,
You might have nam'd Alcides at the least:
Is he not worth your Praise? The Pylian Prince
Sigh'd ere he spoke; then made this proud Defence.
My former Woes in long Oblivion drown'd,

I wou'd have loft; but you renew the Wound:
Better to pass him o'er, than to relate
The Cause I have your mighty Sire to hate.
His Fame has fill'd the World, and reach'd the Sky;
(Which, Oh, I wish, with Truth, I cou'd deny!)
We praise not Hector; though his Name, we know,
Is great in Arms; 'tis hard to praise a Foe.

He, your Great Father, levell'd to the Ground Meffenia's Tow'rs: Nor better Fortune found

Elis, and Pylos; that a neighb'ring State,
And this my own: Both guiltless of their Fate.

To pass the reft, twelve, wanting one, he flew; My Brethren, who their Birth from Neleas drew. All Youths of early Promife, had they liv'd;

.

By him they perish'd: I alone furviv'd.
The rest were easie Conqueft: But the Fate
Of Periclymenos, is wondrous to relate.
To him, our common Grandfire of the Main,
Had giv'n to change his Form, and chang'd, re-
fume again.

Vary'd at Pleasure, every Shape he try'd;
And in all Beafts Alcides still defy'd:"

Vanquish'd on Earth, at length he foar'd above;
Chang'd to the Bird, that bears the Bolt of Jove.
The new-diffembled Eagle, now endu'd
With Beak and Pounces, Hercules purfu'd,
And cuff'd his manly Cheeks, and tore his Face ;
Then, fafe retir'd, and tour'd in empty space.
Alcides bore not long his flying Foe;
But bending his inevitable Bow,

Reach'd him in Air, fufpended as he stood;

And in his Pinion fix'd the feather'd Wood.

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Light was the Wound; but in the Sinew hung
The Point; and his difabled Wing unftrung.
He wheel'd in Air, and ftretch'd his Vans in vain;
His Vans no longer cou'd his Flight fuftain:
For while one gather'd Wind, one unfupply'd
Hung drooping down; nor pois'd his other Side.
He fell: The Shaft that flightly was imprefs'd,
Now from his heavy Fall with weight increas'd,
Drove through his Neck, aflant; be fpurns the
Ground

And the Soul issues through the Weazon's Wound.
Now, brave Commander of the Rhodian Seas,
What Praise is due from me, to Hercules?
Silence is all the Vengeance I decree

For my

flain Brothers; but 'tis Peace with thee. Thus with a flowing Tongue old Neftor fpoke: Then, to full Bowls each other they provoke:.. At length, with Wearinefs and Wine opprefs'd, They rife from Table; and withdraw to Rest. The Sire of Cygnus, Monarch of the Main, Mean time, laments his Son, in Battel flain: And vows the Victor's Death; nor vows in vain. For

For nine long Years the fmother'd Pain he bore;
(Achilles was not ripe for Fate, before:)
Then when he saw the promis'd Hour was near,
He thus bespoke the God, that guides the Year.
Immortal Offspring of my Brother Jove;
My brightest Nephew, and whom best I love,
Whofe Hands were join'd with mine, to raise the
Wall

Of tottring Troy, now nodding to her Fall,
Doft thou not mourn our Pow'r employ'd in vain;
And the Defenders of our City flain?

To pass the reft, cou'd noble Hector lie
Unpity'd, drag'd around his Native Troy?
And yet the Murd'rer lives: Himself by far
A greater Plague, than all the wasteful War:
He lives; the proud Pelides lives, to boast
Our Town destroy'd, our common Labour loft!
O, cou'd I meet him! But I wish too late:
To prove my Trident is not in his Fate!
But let him try (for that's allow'd) thy Dart,
And pierce his only penetrable Part.
Apollo bows to the fuperior Throne;

And to his Uncle's Anger, adds his own.
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Then in a Cloud involv'd, he takes his Flight, Where Greeks and Trojans mix'd in mortal Fight; And found out Paris, lurking where he stood, And ftain'd his Arrows with Plebeian Blood: Phœbus to him alone the God confefs'd,

Then to the recreant Knight, he thus addrefs'd. 'Doft thou not blush, to spend thy Shafts in vain On a degenerate and ignoble Train?

If Fame, or better Vengeance, be thy Care, There aim: And, with one Arrow, end the War.

He faid; and fhew'd from far the blazing Shield. AndSword, which but Achilles none cou'd wield;( And how he mov'd a God, and mow'd the ftand

The Deity himself directs aright [ing Field.

Th' invenom'd Shaft; and wings the fatal Flight.

Thus fell the foremost of the Grecian Name; And He, the bafe Adult'rer, boafts the Fame. A Spectacle to glad the Trojan Train And please old Priam, after Hector flain. If by a Female Hand he had foreseen

;

He was to die, his Wifh had rather been

[Queen.

The Lance and double Ax of the fair Warrious

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