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840

Then fwift invades the fhips, whose beaky prores
Lay rank'd contiguous on the bending shores :
So the strong eagle from his airy height,
Who marks the fwans' or cranes' embody'd flight,
Stoops down impetuous, while they light for food,
And, stooping, darkens with his wings the flood.
Jove leads him on with his almighty hand,
And breathes fierce fpirits in his following band.
The warring nations meet, the battle roars,
Thick beats the combat on the founding prores.
Thou wouldst have thought, fo furious was their fire,
No force could tame them, and no toil could tire; $45.
As if new vigour from new fights they won,
And the long battle was but then begun.
Greece yet unconquer'd, kept alive the war,
Secure of death, confiding in defpair;
Troy in proud hopes, already view'd the main
Bright with the blaze, and red with heroes flain!
Like ftrength is felt from hope and from despair,
And each contends, as his were all the war.

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'Twas thou, bold Hector! whofe refiftlefs hand First feiz'd a fhip on that contested strand ;.

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The fame which dead Protefilaus bore,

The first that touch'd th' unhappy Trojan shore:
For this in arms the warring nations stood,

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And bath'd their generous breafts with mutual blood.
No room to poize the lance or bend the bow;
But hand to hand, and man to man, they grow:
Wounded they wound; and feek each other's hearts
With falchions, axes, fwords, and fhorten'd darts.

The

The falchions ring, fhields rattle, axes found,
Swords flash in air, or glitter on the ground;
With ftreaming blood the flippery shores are dy'd,
And flaughter'd heroes fwell the dreadful tide.

Still raging Hector with his ample hand

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Grafps the high ftern, and gives this loud command:
Hafte, bring the flames! the toil of ten long years 870
Is finish'd! and the day defir'd appears!

This happy day with acclamations greet,
Bright with destruction of yon hoftile fleet.
The coward counfels of a timorous throng
Of reverend dotards, check'd our glory long:
Too long Jove lull'd us with lethargic charms,
But now in peals of thunder calls to arms :
In this great day he crowns our full defires,
Wakes all our force, and feconds all our fires.

He spoke-the warriours, at his fierce command,

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Pour a new deluge on the Grecian band.
Ev'n Ajax paus'd (fo thick the javelins fly)
Stepp'd back, and doubted or to live, or die.
Yet where the oars are plac'd, he stands to wait
What chief approaching dares attempt his fate:
Ev'n to the last, his naval charge defends,
Now shakes his fpear, now lifts, and now protends;
Ev'n yet, the Greeks with piercing shouts inspires,
Amidst attacks, and deaths, and darts, and fires.

O friends! O heroes! names for ever dear,
Once fons of Mars, and thunderbolts of war!
Ah! yet be mindful of your old renown,
Your great forefathers' virtues and your own.

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What

What aids expect you in this utmost strait?
What bulwarks rifing between you and fate?
No aids, no bulwarks, your retreat attend ;
No friends to help, no city to defend.
This fpot is all you have, to lofe or keep;

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There ftand the Trojans, and here rolls the deep.
'Tis hoftile ground you tread; your native lands 900
Far, far from hence: your fates are in your hands.
Raging he spoke; nor farther waftes his breath,
But turns his javelin to the work of death.
Whate'er bold Trojan arm'd his daring hands,
Against the fable fhips, with flaming brands,
So well the chief his naval weapon fped,
The luckless warriour at his ftern lay dead :
Full twelve, the boldeft, in a moment fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the fhades of hell.

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