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Now let a hero's arms a coward vest,

And he, who shunn'd all honours, gain the best;
And let me stand excluded from my right,
Robb'd of my kinsman's arms, who first appear'd
in fight.

Better for us, at home he had remain'd,

Had it been true the madness which he feign'd,
Or so believ'd; the less had been our shame,
The less his counsell'd crime, which brands the
Grecian name;

Nor Philoctetes had been left enclos'd
In a bare isle, to wants and pains expos'd,
Where to the rocks, with solitary groans,
His sufferings and our baseness he bemoans;
And wishes (so may Heaven his wish fulfil)
The due reward to him who caus'd his ill.
Now he, with us to Troy's destruction sworn,
Our brother of the war, by whom are borne
Alcides' arrows, pent in narrow bounds,

With cold and hunger pinch'd, and pain'd with wounds,

To find him food and clothing, must employ

Let him return to that opprobrious field;
Again creep under my protecting shield:
Let him lie wounded, let the foe be near,
And let his quivering heart confess his fear;
There put him in the very jaws of Fate;
And let him plead his cause in that estate:
And yet, when snatch'd from Death, when from
below

My lifted shield I loos'd and let him go, [bound
Good Heavens, how light he rose, with what a
He sprung from Earth, forgetful of his wound:
How fresh, how eager then his feet to ply;
Who had not strength to stand, had speed to fly!
Hector came on, and brought the gods along;
Fear seiz'd alike the feeble and the strong:
Each Greek was an Ulysses; such a dread
Th' approach, and ev'n the sound, of Hector bred:
Him, fleshed with slaughter, and with conquest
crown'd,

| I met, and over-turn'd him to the ground.
When after, matchless as he deem'd in might,
He challeng'd all our host to single fight.

Against the birds the shafts due to the fate of All eyes were fix'd on me: the lots were thrown;

Troy.

Yet still he lives, and lives from treason free,
Because he left Ulysses' company:
Poor Palamede might wish, so void of aid
Rather to have been left, than so to death betray'd.
The coward bore the man immortal spite,
Who sham'd him out of madness into fight:
Nor, daring otherwise to vent his hate;
Accus'd him first of treason to the state;
And then for proof produc'd the golden store
Himself had hidden in his tent before:
Thus of two champions he depriv'd our host,
By exile one, and one by treason lost.
Thus fights Ulysses, thus his fame extends,
A formidable man, but to his friends:
Great, for what greatness is in words and sound:
Ev'n faithful Nestor less in both is found:
But that he might without a rival reign,
He left his faithful Nestor on the plain;
Forsook his friend ev'n at his utmost need,
Who, tir'd and tardy, with his wounded steed,
Cry'd out for aid, and call'd him by his name;
But Cowardice has neither ears nor shame :
Thus fled the good old man, bereft of aid,
And, for as much as lay in him, betray'd.
That this is not a fable forg'd by me,
Like one of his, an Ulyssean lie,

I vouch ev'n Diomede, who, though his friend,
Cannot that act excuse, much less defend :
He call'd him back aloud, and tax'd his fear;
And sure enough he heard, but durst not hear.
"The gods with equal eyes on mortals look;
He justly was forsaken, who forsook :
Wanted that succour he refus'd to lend,
Found every fellow such another friend:
No wonder, if he roar'd that all might hear,
His elocution was increas'd by fear:

I heard, I ran, I found him out of breath,
Pale, trembling, and half dead with fear of death.
Though he had judg'd himself by his own laws,
And stood condemn'd, I help'd the common cause:
With my broad buckler hid him from the foe,
(Ev'n the shield trembling as he lay below)
And from impending fate the coward freed:
Good Heaven forgive me for so bad a deed!
If still he will persist, and urge the strife,
First let him give me back his forfeit life:

But for your champion I was wish'd alone: [yield;
Your vows were heard; we fought, and neither
Yet I return'd unvanquish'd from the field.
With Jove to friend th' insuiting Trojan came,
And menac'd us with force, our fleet with flame:
Was it the strength of this tongue-valiant lord,
In that black hour that sav'd you from the sword?
Or was my breast expos'd alone, to brave
A thousand swords, a thousand ships to save?
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 prisoner, 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 tottering 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,
Ponderous with precious weight, and rough with
Of the round world in rising gold emboss'd. [cost
That orb would ill become his hand to wield,
And look as for the gold he stole the shield;
Which should your errour 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, | I not presume on every act to dwell,

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 them in the field.”
He said: a murmur from the multitude,
Or somewhat like a stifled shout, ensued:
Till from his seat arose Laertes' son,
Look'd down awhile, and paus'd ere he begun;
Then to th' 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.[prayer,
"If Heaven, my lords, had heard our common
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 ally'd;
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 try'd:
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 last?

But take these few, in order as they fell.
"Thetis, who knew the Fates, apply'd her care
To keep Achilles in disguise from war;
And, till the threatening influence were past,
A woman's habit on the hero cast,

All eyes were cozen'd by the borrow'd vest,
And Ajax (never wiser than the rest)
Found no Pelides there: at length I came
With proffer'd wares to this pretended dame;
She, not discover'd by her mien or voice,
Betray'd her manhood by her manly choice;
And while on female toys her fellows look,
Grasp'd in her warlike hand, a javelin shook ;
Whom, by this act reveal'd, I thus bespoke:

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O goddess-born! resist not Heaven's decree,
The fall of Ilium is reserv'd for thee;'
Then, seiz'd him, and, produc'd in open light,
Sent blushing to the field the fatal knight.
Mine then are all his actions of the war;
Great Telephus was conquer'd by my spear,
And after cur'd: to me the Thebans owe,
Lesbos and Tenedos, their overthrow;
Scyros and Cylla: not on all to dwell,
By me Lyrnesus and strong Chrysa fell:
And since I sent the man who Hector slew,
To me the noble Hector's death is due :
Those arms I put into his living hand,
Those arms, Pelides dead, I now demand.
"When Greece was injur'd in the Spartan prince,
And met at Aulis to revenge th' offence,
'Twas a dead calm, or adverse blasts, that reign'd,
And in the port the wind-bound fleet detain'd:
Bad signs were seen, and oracles severe
Were daily thunder'd in our general's ear:
That by his daughter's blood we must appease
Diana's kindled wrath, and free the seas.
Affection, interest, fame, his heart assail'd ;
But soon the father o'er the king prevail'd:
Bold, on himself he took the pious crime,
As angry with the gods, as they with him,
No subject could sustain their sovereign's look,
Till this hard enterprize I undertook :

I only durst th' imperial power control,
And undermin'd the parent in his soul;
Forc'd him t' exert the king for common good,
And pay our ransom with his daughter's blood.
Never was cause more difficult to plead,
Than where the judge against himself decreed:
Yet this I won by dint of argument;
The wrongs his injur'd brother underwent,
And his own office, sham'd him to consent.
""Twas harder yet to move the mother's mind,
And to this heavy task was I design'd:
Reasons against her love I knew were vain :
I circumvented whom I could not gain:
Had Ajax been employ'd, our slacken'd sails
Had still at Aulis waited happy gales.

"Arriv'd at Troy, your choice was fix'd on me,
A fearless envoy, fit for a bold embassy:
Secure, I enter'd through the hostile court,
Glittering with steel and crouded with resort:
There in the midst of arms, 1 plead our cause,
Urge the foul rape, and violated laws;
Accuse the foes, as authors of the strife,
Reproach the ravisher, demand the wife.
Priam, Antenor, and the wiser few,

[stood

I mov'd; but Paris and his lawless crew
Scarce held their hands, and lifted swords: but
In act to quench their impious thirst of blood:

This Menelaus knows; expos'd to share
With me the rough preludium of the war.
"Endless it were to tell what I have done,
In arms, or counsel, since the siege begun:
The first encounters past, the foe repell❜d,
They skulk'd within the town, we kept the field,
War seem'd asleep for nine long years; at length,
Both sides resolv'd to push, we try'd our strength,
Now what did Ajax while our arms took breath,
Vers'd only in the gross mechanic trade of death?
If you require my deeds, with ambush'd arms
I trapp'd the foe, or tir'd with false alarms;
Secur'd the ships, drew lines along the plain,
The fainting cheer'd, chastis'd the rebel-train,
Provided forage, our spent arms renew'd;
Employ'd at home, or sent abroad, the common
cause pursued.

"The king, deluded in a dream by Jove,
Despair'd to take the town, and order'd to remove.
What subject durst arraign the power supreme,
Producing Jove to justify his dream?
Ajax might wish the soldiers to retain
From shameful flight, but wishes were in vain;
As wanting of effect had been his words,
Such as of course his thundering tongue affords.
But did this boaster threaten, did he pray,
Or by his own example urge their stay?
None, none of these, but ran himself away.
I saw him run, and was asham'd to see;
Who ply'd his feet so fast to get aboard as he?
Then, speeding through the place, I made a
stand,

And loudly cry'd, ' O base degenerate band,
To leave a town already in your hand,
After so long expense of blood, for fame,
To bring home nothing but perpetual shaine!'
These words, or what I have forgotten since,
(For grief inspir'd me then with eloquence)
Reduc'd their minds, they leave the crowded port,
And to their late forsaken camp resort;
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,
Arm'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-tongued, and us'd to lie;
Him I dispatch'd, but not til!, 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 Rhosus, 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 m now his arms, whose fiery steeds
Were promis'd to the spy for his nocturnal deeds:

And let dull Ajax bear away my right
When all his days out-balance 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 try'd:
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;
"That 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 confess 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.
Patrocles 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,
'Tis just you to these shoulders should restore.
You see I want not nerves, who could sustain
The ponderous ruins of so great a man:
Or if in others equal force you find,
None is endued 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 heavenly 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 watery field?
The Pleiads, Hyads; less and greater Bear,
Undipp'd in seas; Orion's angry star;
Two differing 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, 'tis 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 dy'd,
Convine'd of treason, and was fairly try'd :
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, th' 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 th' counsel, and he lives at least ;
Th' 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 will 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, Surpriz'd by night, and fore'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 secret lay:

Yet this I compass'd, and from Troy convey'd
The fatal image of their guardian maid:

That work was mine; for Pallas, though our friend,
Yet while she was in Troy, did Troy defend.
Now what has Ajax done, or what design'd?
A noisy nothing, and an empty wind.
If he be what he promises in show,
Why was I sent, and why fear'd be to go?
Our boasting champion thought the task not light
To pass the guards, commit himself to night:
Not only through a hostile town to pass,
But scale, with steep ascent, the sacred place;
With wandering 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.
That 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 pretend:
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 boisterous 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 of 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 execute 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 th' 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 remaius,
To be perform'd by prudence or by pains;
If yet some desperate action rests behind,
That asks high conduct, and a dauntless mind;
If ought be wanting to the Trojan doom,
Which none but I can manage and o'ercome;
Award those arins I ask, by your decree:
Or give to this what you refuse to me."

He ceas'd: and ceasing with respect he bow'd, And with his hand at once the fatal statue show'd. Heaven, air, and ocean rung, with loud applause. And by the general vote he gain'd his cause. Thus conduct won the prize, when courage fail'd, And eloquence o'er brutal force prevail'd. ·

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 madness, and disdain; Then snatching out his fauchion, “Thou," said

he,

"Art mine; Ulysses lays no claim to thee.

O often try'd, 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 fixt it stood,
Till out it rush'd, expell'd by streams of spouting
blood.

The fruitful blood produc'd a flower, 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.

FROM THE THIRTEENTH BOOK OF
OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.
Acis, 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.

Now sixteen summers the sweet youth had seen;
And doubtful down began to shade his chin:
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 defy'd th' etherial throne,i
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' inbuman host, who made his bloody feasts
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 slecks,
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 every 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, reply'd,
"Vain augur, thou hast falsely prophesy'd;
Already Love his flaming brand has tost;
Looking on two fair eyes, my sight I lost."

VOL. IX.

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,
That sailing ships requir'd it for a mast,
He wielded for a staff, his steps 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 watery plains, the dreadful hiss resound.
I heard the ruffian shepherd 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.
"O lovely Galatea, whiter far
Than falling snows and rising lilies are;
More flowery than the meads, as crystal bright;
Erect as alders, and of equal height:
More wanton than a kid; more sleek thy skin
Than orient shells, that on the shores are seen:
Than apples fairer, when the boughs they lade;
Pleasing, as winter suns, or summer shade:
More grateful to the sight, than goodly plains;
And softer to the touch, than down of swans,
Or curds new turn'd; and sweeter to the taste,
Than swelling grapes, that to the vintage haste:
More clear than ice, or running streams,
that stray
Through garden plots, but ah! more swift than
"Yet, Galatea, harder to be broke [they.
Than bullocks, unreclaim'd to bear the yoke:
And far more stubborn than the knotted oak:
Like sliding streams, impossible to hold;
Like them fallacious; like their fountains, cold:
More warping, than the willow, to decline
My warm embrace; more brittle than the vine;
Immoveable, and fix'd in thy disdain :
Rough, as these rocks, and of a harder grain;
More violent, than is the rising flood:
And the prais'd peacock is not half so proud:
Fierce as the fire, and sharp as thistles are
And more outrageous than a mother-bear:
Deaf as the billows to the vows I make;
And more revengeful than a trodden snake:
In swiftness fleeter than the flying hind,
Or driven tempests, or the driving wind.
All other faults with patience I can bear;
But swiftness is the vice I only fear.

"Yet if you knew me well, you would not shun My love, but to my wish'd embraces run: Would languish in your turn, and court my stay; And much repent of your unwise delay.

"My palace, in the living rock, is made By Nature's hand; a spacious pleasing shade; Which neither heat can pierce, nor cold invade. My garden fill'd with fruits you may behold, And grapes in clusters, imitating gold; Some blushing bunches of a purple hue: And these, and those, are all resev'd for you. Red strawberries in shades expecting stand, Proud to be gather'd by so white a hand. Autumnal cornels latter fruit provide, And plums, to tempt you, turn their glossy side:

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