The lords applaud: Ulysses then with art, And fears well-feign’d, disguised his dauntless heart. “Worn as I am with age, decay’d with woe; Say, is it baseness to decline the foe? Hard conflict! when calamity and age With vigorous youth, unknown to cares, engage! Yet, fearful of disgrace, to try the day Imperious hunger bids, and I obey; But swear, impartial arbiters of right, Swear to stand neutral, while we cope in fight.” The peers assent: when straight his sacred head Telemachus upraised, and sternly said: “Stranger, if prompted to chastise the wrong Of this bold insolent, confide, be strong! The injurious Greek that dares attempt a blow, That instant makes Telemachus his foe; And these my friends shall guard the sacred ties Of hospitality, for they are wise.” Then, girding his strong loins, the king prepares To close in combat, and his body bares; Broad spread his shoulders, and his nervous thighs By just degrees, like well-turn’d columns, rise Ample his chest, his arms are round and long, And each strong joint Minerva knits more strong (Attendant on her chief): the suitor-crowd With wonder gaze, and gazing speak aloud: “Irus! alas! shall Irus be no more? Black fate impends, and this the avenging hour! Gods! how his nerves a matchless strength proclaim, Swell o’er his well-strong limbs, and brace his frame!” Then pale with fears, and sickening at the sight; They dragg’d the unwilling Irus to the fight; From his blank visage fled the coward blood, And his flesh trembled as aghast he stood. “O that such baseness should disgrace the light? O hide it, death, in everlasting night! (Exclaims Antinous;) can a vigorous foe Meanly decline to combat age and woe? But hear me wretch! if recreant in the fray That huge bulk yield this ill-contested day, Instant thou sail’st, to Eschetus resign’d; A tyrant, fiercest of the tyrant kind, Who casts thy mangled ears and nose a prey To hungry dogs, and lops the man away.” While with indignant scorn he sternly spoke, In every joint the trembling Irus shook. Now front to front each frowning champion stands, And poises high in air his adverse hands. The chief yet doubts, or to the shades below To fell the giant at one vengeful blow, Or save his life, and soon his life to save The king resolves, for mercy sways the brave That instant Irus his huge arm extends, Full on his shoulder the rude weight descends; The sage Ulysses, fearful to disclose The hero latent in the man of woes, Check’d half his might; yet rising to the stroke, His jawbone dash’d, the crashing jawbone broke: Down dropp’d he stupid from the stunning wound; His feet extended quivering, beat the ground; His mouth and nostrils spout a purple flood; His teeth, all shatter’d, rush inmix’d with blood.