Thy boift'rous hands are then of use, when I
With this directing head thofe hands apply.
Brawn without brain is thine: my prudent care
Forefees, provides, adminifters the war:-
Thy province is to fight; but when shall be
The time to fight, the king confults with me:
No dram of judgment with thy force is join'd,
Thy body is of profit, and my mind.
But how much more the ship her 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 fo much greater is my worth than thine,
Who can'st but execute what I design.
What gain't thou brutal man, if I confefs
Thy ftrength fuperior when thy wit is lefs?
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 fo long a spacé,
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 tott'ring tow'rs,
And by their taken Gods, which now are ours;
Or if there yet a farther task remains,
To be perform'd by prudence or by pains;
yet fome defperate action rests behind
hat afks high conduct, and a dauntless mind;
ought he wanting to the Trojan doom
hich none but I can manage and o'ercome,
ard, those arms I ask, by your decree :
give to this what you refuse to me.
He ceas'd: and cealing with refpe&t he bow'd, d with his hand at once the fatal statue show'd. av'n, air and ocean rung, with loud applause, dby the general vote he gain'd his cause. us conduct won the prize, when courage fail'd, d eloquence o'er brutal force prevail'd,
who cou'd often, and alone witbstand
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 fnatching out his fauchion, thou, said he,
Art mine; Ulyffes lays no claim to thee.
O often try'd, and ever trusty fword,
Now do thy laft kind office to thy lord:
'Tis Ajax, who requests thy aid, to show
None but himself, himself cou'd overthrow :
He said, and with fo 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 cou'd force it thence, fo fix'd it stood
Till out it rush'd, expell'd by streams of spouting blood
The fruitful blood produc'd a flow'r, which grew
On a green stem; and of a purple hue:
Like his, whom unaware Apollo flew :
Infcrib'd in both, the letters are the fame,
But those express the gtief, and these the name.
days of old when Arthur fill'd the throne,
Whofe acts and fame to foreign lands were blow'n; le king of elfs and little fairy queen
mboll'd on heaths, and danc'd on ev'ry green. d where the jolly troop had led the round e grafs unbidden rofe, and mark'd the ground: darkling did they dance, the filver light. Phoebe fery'd to guide their steps aright, nd, with their tripping pleas'd, prolong'd the night. er beams they follow'd, where at full fhe play'd, for longer than the fhed her horns they staid, From thence with airy flight to foreign lands convey'd.
bove the reft our Britain held they dear,
More folemnly they kept their fabbaths here,
And made more spacious rings, and revell'd half
the year.
I speak of ancient times, for now the swain
Returning late may pass the woods in vain,
And never hope to see the nightly train :
In vain the dairy now with mints is dress'd,
The dairy-maid expects no fairy guest,
To kim the bowls and after pay the feast.
She fighs and Chakes her empty fhoes in vain,
No filver penny to reward her pain:
For priests with pray'rs, and other godly geer,
Have made the merry goblins difappear;
And where they play'd their merry pranks before,
Have sprinkled holy water on the floor:
And fri'rs that through the wealthy regions run
Thick as the motes, that twinkle in the fun;
Refort to farmers rich, and bless their halls
And exorcife the beds, and cross the walls:
This makes the fairy quires forfake the place,
When once 'tis hallow'd with the rites of grace:
But in the walks where wicked elves have been,
The learning of the parish now is feen,
The midnight parfon posting o'er the green,
With gown tuck'd up to wakes; for Sunday next,
With humming ale encouraging his text;
Nor wants the holy leer to country-girl betwixt.
From fiends and imps he fets the village free,
There haunts not any incubus, but he.
The maids and women need no danger fear
To walk by night, and fanctity so near:
For by fome haycock or fome fhady thorn
He bids his beads both even-fong and morn
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