First of the field, great Ajax strikes their eyes,
His port majestic, and his ample size:
A pond’rous mace, with studs of iron crown’d
Full twenty cubits long, he swings around
Nor fights like others fix’d to certain stands,
But looks a moving tower above the bands;
High on the decks, with vast gigantic stride,
The godlike hero stalks from side to side.
So when a horseman from the wat’ry mead
(Skill’d in the manage of the bounding steed)
Drives four fair coursers, practis’d to obey,
To some great city thro’ the public way;
Safe in his art, as side by side they run,
He shifts his seat, and vaults from one to one;
And now to this, and now to that he flies;
Admiring numbers follow with their eyes.
From ship to ship thus Ajax swiftly flew,
No less the wonder of the warring crew.
He spoke. The warriors, at his fierce command,
Pour a new deluge on the Grecian band.
Ev’n Ajax paus’d (so thick the jav’lins fly),
Stepp’d back, and doubted or to live, or die.
Yet where the oars are placed, he stands to wait
What Chief approaching dares attempt his fate:
Ev’n to the last his naval charge defends,
Now shakes his spear, now lifts, and now protends;
Ev’n yet, the Greeks with piercing shouts inspires,
Amidst attacks, and deaths, and darts, and fires:
‘O friends! O heroes! names for ever dear,
Once sons of Mars, and thunderbolts of war!
Ah! yet be mindful of your old renown,
Your great forefathers’ virtues and your own.
What aids expect you in this utmost strait?
What bulwarks rising between you and fate?
No aids, no bulwarks, your retreat attend,
No friends to help, no city to defend.
This spot is all you have, to lose or keep;
There stand the Trojans, and here rolls the deep.
’T is hostile ground you tread; your native lands
Far, far from hence: your fates are in your hands.’
Raging he spoke; nor farther wastes his breath,
But turns his jav’lin to the work of death.
Whate’er bold Trojan arm’d his daring bands
Against the sable ships with flaming brands,
So well the Chief his naval weapon sped,
The luckless warrior at his stern lay dead:
Full twelve, the boldest, in a moment fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell.
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