crew, Or slain, or fled, the sons of Dares view; When by the blood-stain'd hand Minerva press'd The god of battles, and this speech address'd: "Stern power of war! by whom the mighty fall, Who bathe in blood, and shake the lofty wall! Let the brave chiefs their glorious toils divide; And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide: While we from interdicted fields retire, Nor tempt the wrath of heaven's avenging sire." Her words allay the impetuous warrior's heat, The god of arms and martial maid retreat; Removed from fight, on Xanthus' flowery bounds They sat, and listen'd to the dying sounds. Meantime, the Greeks the Trojan race pursue, And some bold chieftain every leader slew: First Odius falls, and bites the bloody sand, His death ennobled by Atrides' hand: As he to flight his wheeling car address'd, The speedy javelin drove from back to breast. In dust the mighty Halizonian lay, His arms resound, the spirit wings its way. Thy fate was next, O Phaestus! doom'd to feel The great Idomeneus' protended steel; Whom Borus sent (his son and only joy) From fruitful Tarne to the fields of Troy. The Cretan javelin reach'd him from afar, And pierced his shoulder as he mounts his car; Back from the car he tumbles to the ground, And everlasting shades his eyes surround. Then died Scamandrius, expert in the chase, In woods and wilds to wound the savage race; Diana taught him all her sylvan arts, To bend the bow, and aim unerring darts: But vainly here Diana's arts he tries, The fatal lance arrests him as he flies; From Menelaus' arm the weapon sent, Through his broad back and heaving bosom went: Down sinks the warrior with a thundering sound, His brazen armour rings against the ground. Next artful Phereclus untimely fell; Bold Merion sent him to the realms of hell. Thy father's skill, O Phereclus! was thine, The graceful fabric and the fair design; For loved by Pallas, Pallas did impar