Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/194

Or, I with them an equal Honour share;
They honour'd to be worn, and I to wear.
Will he compare my Courage with his Sleight?
As well he may, compare the Day with Night.
Night is indeed the Province of his Reign:$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
Yet all his dark Exploits no more contain
Than a Spy taken, and a Sleeper slain;
A Priest made Pris'ner, Pallas made a Prey:$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
But none of all these Actions done by Day:
Nor ought of these was done, and Diomede away.
If on such petty Merits you confer
So vast a Prize, let each his Portion share;
Make a just Dividend; and if not all,
The greater part to Diomede will fall.
But why for Ithacus such Arms as those,
Who naked, and by Night invades his Foes?
The glitt'ring Helm by Moonlight will proclaim
The latent Robber, and prevent his Game:
Nor cou'd he hold his tott'ring Head upright
Beneath that Motion, or sustain the Weight;
Nor that right Arm cou'd toss the beamy Lance;
Much less the left that ampler Shield advance;
Pond'rous with precious Weight, and rough with Cost
Of the round World in rising Gold emboss'd.
That Orb would ill become his Hand to wield,
And look as for the Gold he stole the Shield;
Which, shou'd your Error on the Wretch bestow,
It would not frighten, but allure the Foe:
Why asks he, what avails him not in Fight,
And wou'd but cumber, and retard his Flight,
In which his only Excellence is plac'd?
You give him Death, that intercept his Haste.
Add, that his own is yet a Maiden-Shield,
Nor the leaft Dint has suffer'd in the Field,
Guiltless of Fight: Mine batter'd, hew'd, and bor'd,
Worn out of Service, must forsake his Lord.

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