Classic Poem

Already Caeneus , with his conquering Hand,
Had slaughter'd five the boldest of their Band.
Pyrachmus, Helymus, Antimachus,
Bromus the Brave, and stronger Stiphelus ,
Their Names I number'd, and remember well,
No Trace remaining, by what Wounds they fell.
Latreus , the bulkiest of the double Race,
Whom the spoil'd Arms of slain Halesus grace,
In Years retaining still his Youthful Might,
Though his black Hairs were interspers'd with White,
Betwixt th'imbattled Ranks began to prance,
Proud of his Helm, and Macedonian Lance;
And rode the Ring around; that either Hoast
Might hear him, while he made this empty Boast.
And from a Strumpet shall we suffer Shame,
For Caenis still, not Caeneus is thy Name:
And still the Native Softness of thy Kind
Prevails; and leaves the Woman in thy Mind?
Remember what thou wert; what Price was paid
To change thy Sex; to make thee not a Maid;
And but a Man in shew: Go, card and spin;
And leave the Business of the War to Men.
While thus the Boaster exercis'd his Pride,
The fatal Spear of Caeneus reach'd his Side:
Just in the mixture of the Kinds it ran;
Betwixt the neather Beast, and upper Man:
The Monster mad with Rage, and stung with Smart,
His Lance directed at the Hero's Heart:
It strook; but bounded from his harden'd Breast,
Like Hail from Tiles, which the safe House invest,
Nor seem'd the Stroke with more effect to come,
Than a small Pebble falling on a Drum.
He next his Fauchion try'd, in closer Fight;
But the keen Fauchion had no Pow'r to bite:
He thrust; the blunted Point return'd again:
Since downright Blows, he cry'd, and Thrusts are vain,
I'll prove his Side; in strong Embraces held
He prov'd his Side; his Side the Sword repell'd:
His hollow Belly eccho'd to the Stroke;
Untouch'd his Body, as a solid Rock;
Aim'd at his Neck at last, the Blade in Shivers broke.
Th'Impassive Knight stood Idle, to deride
His Rage, and offer'd oft his naked Side;
At length, now Monster, in thy turn, he cry'd,
Try thou the Strength of Caeneus : At the Word
He thrust; and in his Shoulder plung'd the Sword.
Then writh'd his Hand; and as he drove it down,
Deep in his Breast, made many Wounds in one.
The Centaurs saw, inrag'd, th'unhop'd Success;
And rushing on, in Crowds, together press;
At him, and him alone, their Darts they threw:
Repuls'd they from his fated Body flew.
Amaz'd they stood; till Monychus began,
O Shame, a Nation conquer'd by a Man!
A Woman-Man; yet more a Man is He,
Than all our Race; and what He was, are We.
Now, what avail our Nerves? th'united Force,
Of two the strongest Creatures, Man and Horse;
Nor Goddess-born; nor of Ixion 's Seed
We seem; (a Lover built for Juno 's Bed;)
Master'd by this half Man. Whole Mountains throw
With Woods at once, and bury him below.
This only way remains. Nor need we doubt
To choak the Soul within; though not to force it out:
Heap Weights, instead of Wounds. He chanc'd to see
Where Southern Storms had rooted up a Tree;
This, rais'd from Earth, against the Foe he threw;
Th'Example shewn, his Fellow-Brutes pursue.
With Forest-loads the Warrior they invade;
Othrys and Pelion soon were void of Shade;
And spreading Groves were naked Mountains made
Press'd with the Burden, Caeneus pants for Breath;
And on his Shoulders bears the Wooden Death.
To heave th'intolerable Weight he tries;
At length it rose above his Mouth and Eyes:
Yet still he heaves; and, strugling with Despair,
Shakes all aside, and gains a gulp of Air:
A short Relief, which but prolongs his Pain;
He faints by Fits; and then respires again:
At last, the Burden only nods above,
As when an Earthquake stirs th Idaean Grove.
Doubtful his Death: He suffocated seem'd,
To most; but otherwise our Mopsus deem'd
Who said he saw a yellow Bird arise
From out the Pile, and cleave the liquid Skies:
I saw it too, with golden Feathers bright;
Nor e'er before beheld so strange a Sight
Whom Mopsus viewing, as it soar'd around
Our Troop, and heard the Pinions rattling Sound,
All hail, he cry'd, thy Country's Grace and Love;
Once first of Men below, now first of Birds above.
Its Author to the Story gave Belief:
For us, our Courage was increas'd by Grief:
Asham'd to see a single Man, pursu'd
With odds, to sink beneath a Multitude,
We push'd the Foe; and, forc'd to shameful Flight,
Part fell, and Part escap'd by Favour of the Night.