Caught, like dry Stubble fir'd; or like Seerwood;
Yet from the Wound ensu'd no Purple Blood;
But look'd a bubbling Mass, of frying Blood.
His blazing Locks sent forth a crackling Sound;
And hiss'd, like red hot Ir'n within the Smithy drown'd.
The wounded Warrior shook his flaming Hair,
Then (what a Team of Horse could hardly rear)
He heaves the Threshold-Stone; but could not throw;
The Weight it self forbad the threaten'd Blow;
Which dropping from his lifted Arms, came down
Full on Cometes' Head; and crush'd his Crown.
Nor Rhætus then retain'd his Joy; but said,
So by their Fellows may our Foes be sped;
Then, with redoubled Strokes he plies his Head:
The burning Lever not deludes his Pains:
But drives the batter'd Skull within the Brains.
Thus flush'd, the Conqueror, with Force renew'd,
Evagrus, Dryas, Corythus, pursu'd:
First, Corythus, with downy Cheeks, he slew;
Whose Fall, when fierce Evagrus had in view,
He cry'd, What Palm is from a beardless Prey?
Rhætus prevents what more he had to say;
And drove within his Mouth the fi'ry Death,
Which enter'd hissing in, and choak'd his Breath.
At Dryas next he flew: But weary Chance,
Nor longer wou'd the same Success advance.
For while he whirl'd in fi'ry Circles round
The Brand, a sharpen'd Stake strong Dryas found;
And in the Shoulder's Joint inflicts the Wound.
The Weapon stuck; which, roaring out with Pain,
He drew; nor longer durst the Fight maintain,
But turn'd his Back, for Fear; and fled amain.
With him fled Orneus, with like Dread possess'd;
Thaumas, and Medon wounded in the Breast;
And Mermeros, in the late Race renown'd,
Now limping ran, and tardy with his Wound.
Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/173
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Book 12.
Ovid's Metamorphoses.
157
Pholus,
