Classic Poem

Nor less in high Repute and Worth was his great Son,
Sole Heir of all his Valour and Renown,
Heir too (if cruel Fate had suffer'd) of his Throne:
The matchless Jonathan 'twas, whom loud-tongu'd Fame
Amongst her chiefest Heroes Joys to name,
E're since the wond'rous Deeds at Seneh done,
Where he, himself an Host, o'recame a War alone:
The trembling Enemies fled, they try'd to fly,
But fixt amazement stopt, and made them die.
Great Archer He! to whom our dreaded skill we owe,
Dreaded by all, who Israel 's warlike Prowess know;
As many Shafts, as his full Quiver held,
So many Fates he drew, so many kill'd:
Quick and unerring they, as darted Eye-beams, flew,
As if he gave 'em sight, and swiftness too.
Death took her Aim from his, and by't her Arrows threw.