In hurried onset, on the neck and breast
The maddening tyrant of Bebrycia press'd;
Whilst in new strength unvanquish'd Pollux rose,
Still driving at the head his deadlier blows.
As in black sweat each limb collapsing shrunk,
The giant champion's vaunted vigour sunk!
Yet Pollux stood in more majestic grace,
And manlier bloom sprung freshening o'er his face.
Say, Muse, how Jove's high son (for you can
Had power the savage monster to repel: [tell)
Your faithful bard, I finish or prolong
The varied tale, as you inspire my song.

Bent, in one desperate effort, to remand
His scattering honours, on the Greek's left hand
Wild, with his own, he seized; then turn'd oblique
To shun the threatening chief prepared to strike-
The ponderous gauntlet of his right hand sped
Death menacing-but miss'd the royal head
That slid elusive of the blow; elate,
The hero of the Greeks aim'd surer fate!
Full on the crest of Amycus it flew ;

And the gored temples gaped disclosed to view;
While, sudden, gushing from the forceful wound
The crimson current trickled to the ground.
Quick on his cheeks the strokes redoubling flash—
And his teeth chatter'd with full
many a
crash.-
Stretch'd on the cold earth, dim life's trem-
bling light,

His hands he lifted-to renounce the fight.
But Pollux (though his triumphs closed the fray)
Tarnish'd by no base deed the splendid day:
While Amycus by father Neptune swore,
'That he would injure strangers never more!

IDYLLIUM XXII.

Castor and Pollux.

PART II.

NEXT, Castor, rise (since now thy brother's praise Hath kindled the rapt Muse's hymning lays), Rise, mailed chief, who lovest the' heroic course, Thou mighty master of the warrior horse!

The bold twin offspring of immortal Jove, Wrought up to frenzy by the power of love, Had borne, rapacious, from their father's dome Leucippus' daughters-fair in virgin bloom! Aphareus' sons the' injurious deed survey'd (The future bridegrooms of each ravish'd maid), And straight pursued the brothers in their flight, Idas strong limb'd, and Lynceus sharp of sight. But when the heroes reach'd the sacred way Where high-entomb'd Aphareus' ashes lay, Each leap'd impetuous from his lofty car, All arm'd with spears and targets for the war: 'Why thus, (aloud beneath his casque he spoke) Why (Lynceus cries) the frantic fight provoke? For others' brides, say, whence this fury came? And why, unsheath'd, your ready falchions flame? Long since Leucippus hath affix'd their dowers, Betroth'd, and with an oath confirm'd them ours. And sure, 'twas base, through cunning to prevail, With dazzling lures of gold their sire assail; Hurry their mules, and herds, and wealth away, And make our property your lawless prey.

'Oft have I argued, though my words are few (A plain remonstrance, but, alas! too true)

Say, hath not Elis-nurse of many a steed,
The' Arcadian valleys that improve the breed
Of beauteous kine, and Sparta's wide domain,
And proud Messené's state, and Argos' plain,
And where rich Corinth opes her ample bay,
All Grecia's towns in populous display-
Say, have not these of maids a numerous tribe,
Bright blooming, to be won without a bribe?
Virgins, that boast, in mind as beauty fair,
The genial nurture of parental care.
For you, who from a lineage great and good
Draw the pure current of heroic blood,
How easy, while their honour'd sires rejoice,
Amidst the lovely train, to fix your choice!
My friends, it ill becomes a prince, I've said,
Insidious to supplant the bridal bed!
Our nuptials but allow us to pursue,

And we'll engage to find fit brides for you."
Such were my words-but ah! the breezes gave
Their sound all unavailing to the wave! [bent,
Yet though no prayers your stubborn bosoms
E'en now (for we are kin) e'en now relent!
But if our warlike prowess must be tried,
And hateful arms be fix'd on to decide;
If vengeance bid the blood of kindred stain,
In fight too ominous, the listed plain ;
Let Idas and the valiant Pollux yield
To Castor and to me the doubtful field!
Let us, the younger two, contend alone,
Nor leave our wretched parents to bemoan
The general death! let some return to cheer
Their drooping friends, and wipe the virgin's tear,
And to supply the place of those who died
Each the fond bridegroom of a happy bride.

Thus lighter mischiefs may our house befall,
Nor the dire contest speed the fates of all.'
He spoke, nor vainly. On the ground, in haste,
Their armour Idas and brave Pollux placed.
But Lynceus, boldly marching to the field,
Shook his strong spear beneath his circling shield;
Then Castor brandish'd his uplifted lance,
And their plumed helmets wave as they advance.
First with their spears they tried the warlike art
To find, ill guarded, some more vital part:
But all in vain the' alternate weapons struck;
The sharp points, breaking, to their targets stuck!
Next, the bright falchions from their sheaths they
And to the closing fight with fury flew! [drew,
At the broad buckler of his vengeful foe,
And nodding casque, while Castor aim'd the blow;
The quick-eyed Lynceus all his powers display'd,
And lopp'd the rival plumage with his blade.
But soon that blade its force too feeble found,
Struck with the hand that held it to the ground.
And fruitless now each effort to withstand—
Hurrying he sought, with mutilated hand,
His father's tomb, where Idas had reclined
To view the' intestine fray with anxious mind.
With unabated rage, the son of Jove
Rush'd on; and, rising, through his navel drove
The forceful falchion! from the gaping wound
His bowels gush'd,and weltering gored the ground.
To earth he falls! and, gasping as he lies,
Death's dim suffusion veils his glaring eyes.
Nor ever was ill omen'd Idas led

By his fond mother to the nuptial bed!
For as, vindictive of his brother's doom,
He tore a column from Aphareus' tomb,

Aiming its massive vengeance at the foe
With wild uplifted arm in act to throw-
Heaven's sovereign Lord elanced a flaming brand
That dash'd the shattering marble from his hand!
Through all his writhing frame the lightnings sped,
And, in a crash of thunder, he fell dead!

The Brothers thus unrival'd fervour fires,
Brave in themselves, and sprung from valiant sires!
Hail, sons of Leda! let each noble name
Give to my hymning harp a deathless fame!
For every poet, kindling, as he sings

Your deeds, and Helen's, and the heroic kings
Who level'd Ilion's pride, in ancient days,
Lives in your spirit, and partakes the praise!
His lofty lyre to warlike glory strung,
Your high renown the Chian poet sung,
With Argive fleets, and battles famed afar,
And Troy and Thetis' son, the tower of war.
I too chant martial numbers; nor refuse
The humble offerings of my votive Muse!
Such as the Nine inspire, my verse appears—
Poetic honours charm immortal ears!

IDYLLIUM XXIII.

The Despairing Lover.

AN amorous shepherd loved a cruel maid;
And breathed vain wishes, all with scorn repaid.
Her beauteous figure but belied her mind-
A form too lovely, with a soul unkind!
She knew not Cupid, or his bitter dart;

She knew not Cupid's power to tame the heart.