The Gymnasiad. an Epic Poem, Book III

Full in the centre now they fix in form, Eye meeting eye, and arm oppos'd to arm; With wily feints each other now provoke, And cautious meditate th' impending stroke. Th' impatient youth, inspir'd by hopes of fame, First sped his arm, unfaithful to its aim; The wary warrior, watchful of his foe, Bends back, and 'scapes the death-designing blow; With erring glance it sounded by his ear, And whizzing spent its idle force in air. Then, quick advancing, on th' unguarded head A dreadful shower of thunderbolts he shed; As when a whirlwind, from some cavern broke, With furious blasts assaults the monarch oak, This way and that its lofty top it bends, And the fierce storm the crackling branches rends. So wav'd the head, and now to left and right, Rebounding flies, and crash'd beneath the weight.

Like the young lion wounded by a dart, Whose fury kindles at the galling smart; The hero rouzes with redoubled rage, Flies on his foe, and foams upon the stage. Now grapling, both in close contention join, Legs lock in legs, and arms in arms entwine; They sweat, they heave, each tugging nerve they strain, Both fix'd as oaks, their sturdy trunks sustain. At length the chief his wily art display'd, Poiz'd on his hip the hapless youth he laid; Aloft in air his quivering limbs he throw'd, Then on the ground down dash'd the ponderous load, So some vast ruin on a mountain's brow, Which tottering hangs, and dreadful nods below, When the fierce tempest the foundation rends, Whirl'd thro' the air with horrid crush descends.

Bold and undaunted up the hero rose, Fiercer his bosom for the combat glows, Shame stung his manly heart, and fiery rage New steel'd each nerve, redoubled war to wage. Swift to revenge the dire disgrace he flies, Again suspended on the hip he lies; Dash'd on the ground, again had fatal fell, Haply the barrier caught his flying heel; There fast it hung, th' imprison'd head gave way, And the strong arm defrauded of its prey. Vain strove the chief to whirl the mountain o'er, It slipt—he headlong rattles on the floor. Around the ring loud peals of thunder rise, And shouts exultant echo to the skies.

Uplifted now inanimate he seems, Forth from his nostrils gush the purple streams; Gasping for breath, and impotent of hand, The youth beheld his rival staggering stand. But he alas! had felt th' unnerving blow, And gaz'd unable to assault the foe. As when two monarchs of the brindled breed Dispute the proud dominion of the mead, They fight, they foam, then, wearied in the fray, Aloof retreat, and lowering stand at bay. So stood the heroes, and indignant glar'd, While grim with blood their rueful fronts were smear'd, Till with returning strength new rage returns, Again their arms are steel'd, again each bosom burns.

Incessant now their hollow sides they pound, Loud on each breast the bounding bangs resound, Their slying fists around the temples glow, And the jaws crackle with the massy blow. The raging combat every eye appals, Strokes following strokes, and falls succeeding falls. Now droop'd the youth, yet, urging all his might, With feeble arm still vindicates the fight. Till, on the part where heav'd the panting breath, A fatal blow impress'd the seal of death. Down dropt the hero, weltering in his gore, And his stretch'd limbs lay quivering on the floor. So when a falcon skims the airy way, Stoops from the clouds, and pounces on his prey; Dash'd on the earth the feather'd victim lies, Expands its feeble wings, and, fluttering, dies. His faithful friends their dying hero rear'd, O'er his broad shoulders dangling hung his head; Dragging its limbs, they bear the body forth, Mash'd teeth and clotted blood came issuing from his mouth.

Thus then the victor—O celestial power! Who gave this arm to boast one triumph more, Now, grey in glory, let my labours cease, My blood-stain'd laurel wed the branch of peace, Lur'd by the lustre of the golden prize, No more in combat this proud crest shall rise; To future heroes future deeds belong, Be mine the theme of some immortal song.

This said—he seiz'd the prize, while round the ring High soar'd Applause on Acclamation's wing.