Its Author to the Story gave Belief:
For us, our Courage was increas'd by Grief:
Asham'd to see a single Man, pursu'd
With odds, to fink beneath a Multitude,
We push'd the Foe: and, forc'd to shameful Flight,
Part fell, and Fart escap'd by Favour of the Night.
The Fate of Periclymenos.
This Tale, by Nestor told, did much displease
Tlepolemus, the Seed of Hercules:
For, often he had heard his Father say,
That he himself was present at the Fray;
And more than shar'd the Glories of the Day.
Old Chronicle, he said, among the rest,
You might have nam'd Alcides at the least:
Is he not worth your Praife? The Pylian Prince
Sigh'd ere he spoke; then made this proud Defence.
My former Woes in long Oblivion drown'd,
I wou'd have lost; but you renew the Wound:
Better to pass him o'er, than to relate
The Cause I have your mighty Sire to hate.
His Fame has fill'd the World, and reach'd the Sky;
(Which, Oh, I wish, with Truth, I cou'd deny!)
We praise not Hector; though his Name, we know,
Is great in Arms, 'tis hard to praise a Foe.
He, your great Father, levell'd to the Ground
Messenia's Tow'rs: Nor better Fortune found
Elis, and Pylos; that a neighb'ring State,
And this my own: Both guiltless of their Fate.
To pass the rest, twelve, wanting one, he slew;
My Brethren, who their Birth from Neleus drew.
All Youths of early Promise, had they liv'd;
By him they perish'd: I alone surviv'd.
The rest were easie Conquest: But the Fate
Of Periclymenos, is wondrous to relate.
