on the chief bestow'd, Such, from his arms, the fierce effulgence flow'd: Onward she drives him, furious to engage, Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage. The sons of Dares first the combat sought, A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault; In Vulcan's fane the father's days were led, The sons to toils of glorious battle bred; These singled from their troops the fight maintain, These, from their steeds, Tydides on the plain. Fierce for renown the brother-chiefs draw near, And first bold Phegeus cast his sounding spear, Which o'er the warrior's shoulder took its course, And spent in empty air its erring force. Not so, Tydides, flew thy lance in vain, But pierced his breast, and stretch'd him on the plain. Seized with unusual fear, Idaeus fled, Left the rich chariot, and his brother dead. And had not Vulcan lent celestial aid, He too had sunk to death's eternal shade; But in a smoky cloud the god of fire Preserved the son, in pity to the sire. The steeds and chariot, to the navy led, Increased the spoils of gallant Diomed. Struck with amaze and shame, the Trojan 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