THE chiefs were fet, the foldiers crown'd the field ;
To these the master of the fevenfold fhield
Upftarted fierce: and kindled with disdain,
Eager to fpeak, unable to contain
His boiling rage, he roll'd his eyes around
The fhore, and Grecian gallies haul'd a-ground.
Then stretching out his hands, O Jove, he cry'd,
Muft then our caufe before the fleet be try'd?
And dares Ulyffes for the prize contend,
In fight of what he durft not once defend?
But bafely fled that memorable day,
When I from Hector's hands redeem'd the flaming prey.
So much 'tis fafer at the noify bar
With words to flourish, than engage
By different methods we maintain'd our right,
Nor am I made to talk, nor he to fight.
In bloody fields I labour to be great;
His arms are a smooth tongue, and foft deceit.
Nor need I speak my deeds, for those you see;
The fun and day are witnesses for me.
Let him who fights unfeen relate his own,
And vouch the filent ftars, and confcious moon.
Great is the prize demanded, I confefs,
But fuch an abject rival makes it lefs.
That gift, thofe honours, he but hop'd to gain,
Can leave no room for Ajax to be vain
Lofing he wins, because his name will be
Ennobled by defeat, who durft contend with me.
Were mine own valour question'd, yet my blood
Without that plea would make my title good:
My fire was Telamon, whofe arms, employ'd
With Hercules, thefe Trojan walls destroy'd;
And who before, with Jafon, fent from Greece,
In the first ship brought home the golden fleece :
Great Telamon from Eacus derives
His birth (th' inquifitor of guilty lives
In fhades below; where Sifyphus, whofe fon
This thief is thought, rolls up the restless heavy stone).
Juft acus the king of Gods above
Begot: thus Ajax is the third from Jove.
Nor fhould I seek advantage from my line,
Unless, Achilles, it were mix'd with thine :
As next of kin Achilles' arms I claim;
This fellow would ingraft a foreign name
Upon our stock, and the Sifyphian feed
By fraud and theft afferts his father's breed.
Then must I lose these arms, because I came
To fight uncall'd, a voluntary name?
Nor fhunn'd the cause, but offer'd you my aid,
While he long lurking was to war betray'd:
Forc'd to the field he came, but in the rear;
And feign'd distraction to conceal his fear :
Till one more cunning caught him in the fnare,
(Ill for himself) and dragg'd him into war.
Now let a hero's arms a coward vest,
And he, who fhunn'd all honours, gain the best;
And let me ftand excluded from my right,
Robb'd of my kinfman'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 fo believ'd; the lefs had been our fhame,
The lefs his counsel'd crime, which brands the Gre
Nor Philoctetes had been left inclos'd
In a bare ifle, to wants and pains expos'd,
Where to the rocks, with folitary groans,
His fufferings and our baseness he bemoans;
And withes (fo may heaven his wish fulfil)
The due reward to him who caus'd his ill.
Now he, with us to Troy's deftruction fworn,
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 cloathing, must employ
Against the birds the fhafts due to the fate of Troy.
Yet ftill he lives, and lives from treason free,
Because he left Ulyffes' company :
Poor Palamede might wish, fo void of aid
Rather to have been left, than fo to death betray'd.
The coward bore the man immortal spite,
Who fham'd him out of madnefs into fight:
Nor, daring otherwife to vent his hate,
Accus'd him firft of treason to the state;
And then for proof produc'd the golden store
Himfelf had hidden in his tent before:
Thus of two champions he depriv'd our hoft,
By exile one, and one by treafon loft.
Thus fights Ulyffes, thus his fame extends,
A formidable man, but to his friends :
Great, for what greatness is in words and sound :
Ev'n faithful Neftor lefs in both is found:
But that he might without a rival reign,
He left his faithful Neftor on the plain;
Forfook 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 Ulyffean lye,
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 fure enough he heard, but durft not hear.
The Gods with equal eyes on mortals look
He juftly was forfaken, who forfook:
Wanted that fuccour he refus'd to lend,
Found every fellow fuch 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 fo bad a deed!
If still he will perfift, and urge the strife,
First let him give me back his forfeit life :
Let him return to that opprobrious field;
Again creep under my protecting fhield:
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 fhield I loos'd and let him go,
Good heavens, how light he rofe, with what a bound
He fprung from earth, forgetful of his wound ;
How fresh, how eager then his feet to ply;
Who had not ftrength to stand, had speed to fly!
Hector came on, and brought the Gods along;
Fear feiz'd alike the feeble and the strong :
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