Th’ enliven’d combatants their arms regain, | Mix in the bloody scene, and boldly war again. | So the foul hag, in screaming wild alarms O’er a dead carcase muttering her charms, 410 (And with her frequent and tremendous yell Forcing great Hecate from out of hell) Shoots in the corpse a new fictitious soul; | With instant glare the supple eyeballs roll, | Again it moves and speaks, and life informs the whole. | 415 Vulcan alone discern’d the subtle cheat; And wisely scorning such a base deceit, Call’d out to Phoebus. Grief and rage assail Phoebus by turns; detected Mars turns pale. Then awful Jove with sullen eye reproved 420 Mars, and the captives order’d to be moved To their dark caves; bid each fictitious spear Be straight recall’d, and all be as they were. And now both Monarchs with redoubled rage Led on their Queens, the mutual war to wage. 425 O’er all the field their thirsty spears they send, Then front to front their Monarchs they defend. But lo! the female White rush’d in unseen, And slew with fatal haste the swarthy Queen; Yet soon, alas! resign’d her royal spoils, 430 Snatch’d by a shaft from her successful toils. Struck at the sight, both hosts in wild surprise Pour’d forth their tears, and fill’d the air with cries; They wept and sigh’d, as pass’d the fun’ral train, As if both armies had at once been slain. 435 And now each troop surrounds its mourning chief, To guard his person, or assuage his grief. One is their common fear; one stormy blast Has equally made havoc as it pass’d. Not all, however, of their youth are slain; 440 Some champions yet the vig’rous war maintain. Three Foot, an Archer, and a stately Tower, For Phoebus still exert their utmost power. Just the same number Mercury can boast, Except the Tower, who lately in his post 445 Unarm’d inglorious fell, in peace profound, Pierced by an Archer with a distant wound; But his right Horse retain’d its mettled pride,— The rest were swept away by war’s strong tide. But fretful Hermes, with despairing moan, 450 Griev’d that so many champions were o’erthrown, Yet reassumes the fight; and summons round The little straggling army that he found,— All that had ’scaped from fierce Apollo’s rage,— Resolved with greater caution to engage 455 In future strife, by subtle wiles (if fate Should give him leave) to save his sinking state. The sable troops advance with prudence slow, Bent on all hazards to distress the foe. More cheerful Phoebus, with unequal pace, 460 Rallies his arms to lessen his disgrace. But what strange havoc everywhere has been! | A straggling champion here and there is seen; | And many are the tents, yet few are left within. | Th’ afflicted Kings bewail their consorts dead, 465 And loathe the thoughts of a deserted bed;