Who, but so known a dastard, dares to say? Had he but even beheld the fight, his eyes Had witnessed for me what his tongue denies-- What heaps of Trojans by this hand were slain, And how the bloody Tyber swelled the main. All saw, but he, the Arcadian troops retire In scattered squadrons, and their prince expire. The giant brothers, in their camp, have found, I was not forced with ease to quit my ground. Not such the Trojans tried me, when, inclosed, I singly their united arms opposed-- First forced an entrance through their thick array, Then, glutted with their slaughter, freed my way. 'Tis a destructive war? So let it be, But to the Phrygian pirate, and to thee! Meantime proceed to fill the people's ears With false reports, their minds with panic fears: Extol the strength of a twice-conquered race; Our foes encourage, and our friends debase. Believe thy fables, and the Trojan town Triumphant stands; the Grecians are o'erthrown; Suppliant at Hector's feet Achilles lies, And Diomede from fierce Æneas flies! Say, rapid Aufidus with awful dread Runs backward from the sea, and hides his head, When the great Trojan on his bank appears; For that's as true as thy dissembled fears Of my revenge: dismiss that vanity: Thou, Drances, art below a death from me. Let that vile soul in that vile body rest; The lodging is well worthy of the guest. Now, royal father, to the present state Of our affairs, and of this high debate-- If in your arms thus early you diffide, And think your fortune is already tried; If one defeat has brought us down so low, As never more in fields to meet the foe; Then I conclude for peace: 'tis time to treat, And lie like vassals at the victor's feet. But, oh! if any ancient blood remains, One drop of all our fathers, in our veins, That man would I prefer before the rest, Who dared his death with an undaunted breast; Who comely fell by no dishonest wound, To shun that sight, and, dying, gnawed the ground. But, if we still have fresh recruits in store, If our confederates can afford us more; If the contended field we bravely fought, And not a bloodless victory was bought; Their losses equalled ours; and, for their slain, With equal fires they filled the shining plain; Why thus, unforced, should we so tamely yield, And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field? Good unexpected, evils unforeseen, Appear by turns, as fortune shifts the scene. Some, raised aloft, come tumbling down amain; Then fall so hard, they bound and rise again. If Diomede refuse his aid to lend, The great Messapus yet remains our friend: Tolumnius, who foretells events, is ours: The Italian chiefs, and princes, join their powers: Nor least in number, nor in name the last, Your own brave subjects have our cause embraced.