128
Poems on
Lo! Diomed, the Chief of Thrace, this Night
Describ'd by Dolon: Now, O! now, thy Strength
Dauntless exert! loose thou the furious Steeds,
Or while the Steeds I loose, with slaughtring Hands
Invade the Soldiery: He spoke, and now
The Queen of Arms inflam'd Tydides' Soul
With all her martial Fires: his reeking Blade
On every side dealt Fate; low, hollow Groans
Murmur'd around, Blood o'er the crimson Field
Well'd from the Slain: As in his nightly Haunts
The surly Lion rushes on the Fold
Of Sheep, or Goat, and rends th' unguarded Prey;
So he the Thracian Bands: Twelve by his Sword
Lay breathless on the Ground: behind him stood
Sage Ithacus, and as the Warrior slew,
Swift he remov'd the Slain, lest the fierce Steeds
Not yet inur'd to Blood, should trembling start,
Impatient of the Dead: Now o'er the King
Describ'd by Dolon: Now, O! now, thy Strength
Dauntless exert! loose thou the furious Steeds,
Or while the Steeds I loose, with slaughtring Hands
Invade the Soldiery: He spoke, and now
The Queen of Arms inflam'd Tydides' Soul
With all her martial Fires: his reeking Blade
On every side dealt Fate; low, hollow Groans
Murmur'd around, Blood o'er the crimson Field
Well'd from the Slain: As in his nightly Haunts
The surly Lion rushes on the Fold
Of Sheep, or Goat, and rends th' unguarded Prey;
So he the Thracian Bands: Twelve by his Sword
Lay breathless on the Ground: behind him stood
Sage Ithacus, and as the Warrior slew,
Swift he remov'd the Slain, lest the fierce Steeds
Not yet inur'd to Blood, should trembling start,
Impatient of the Dead: Now o'er the King
He
