Huge cantlets of his buckler strew the ground, And no defence in his bored arms is found. But on his flesh no wound or blood is seen; The sword itself is blunted on the skin. This vain attempt the chief no longer bears; But round his hollow temples and his ears, His buckler beats: the son of Neptune, stunned With these repeated buffets, quits his ground; A sickly sweat succeeds, and shades of night; Inverted nature swims before his sight: The insulting victor presses on the more, And treads the steps the vanquished trod before, Nor rest, nor respite gives. A stone there lay Behind his trembling foe, and stopped his way; Achilles took the advantage which he found, O'er-turned, and pushed him backward on the ground. His buckler held him under, while he pressed, With both his knees above, his panting breast; Unlaced his helm; about his chin the twist He tied, and soon the strangled soul dismissed. With eager haste he went to strip the dead; The vanquished body from his arms was fled. His sea-god sire, t'immortalize his fame, Had turned it to the bird that bears his name.[31] A truce succeeds the labours of this day, And arms suspended with a long delay. While Trojan walls are kept with watch and ward, The Greeks before their trenches mount the guard. The feast approached; when to the blue-eyed Maid, } His vows for Cygnus slain the victor paid, } And a white heifer on her altar laid. } The reeking entrails on the fire they threw, And to the gods the grateful odour flew; Heaven had its part in sacrifice; the rest Was broiled and roasted for the future feast. The chief invited guests were set around; } And, hunger first assuaged, the bowls were crowned, } Which in deep draughts their cares and labours drowned. } The mellow harp did not their ears employ, And mute was all the warlike symphony; Discourse, the food of souls, was their delight, And pleasing chat prolonged the summer's night. The subject, deeds of arms; and valour shown, Or on the Trojan side, or on their own. Of dangers undertaken, fame atchieved, They talked by turns, the talk by turns relieved. What things but these could fierce Achilles tell, Or what could fierce Achilles hear so well? The last great act performed, of Cygnus slain, Did most the martial audience entertain; Wondering to find a body, free by fate From steel, and which could even that steel rebate. Amazed, their admiration they renew; And scarce Pelides could believe it true. Then Nestor, thus;--What once this age has known, In fated Cygnus, and in him alone, These eyes have seen in Cæneus long before, Whose body not a thousand swords could bore. Cæneus in courage and in strength excelled,