Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/173

Book 12. Caught, like dry Stubble fir'd; or like Seerwood; Yet from the Wound ensu'd no Purple Blood; But look'd a bubbling Mass, of frying Blood. His blazing Locks sent forth a crackling Sound; And hiss'd, like red hot Ir'n within the Smithy drown'd. The wounded Warrior shook his flaming Hair, Then (what a Team of Horse could hardly rear) He heaves the Threshold-Stone; but could not throw; The Weight it self forbad the threaten'd Blow; Which dropping from his lifted Arms, came down Full on Cometes' Head; and crush'd his Crown. Nor Rhætus then retain'd his Joy; but said, So by their Fellows may our Foes be sped; Then, with redoubled Strokes he plies his Head: The burning Lever not deludes his Pains: But drives the batter'd Skull within the Brains. Thus flush'd, the Conqueror, with Force renew'd, Evagrus, Dryas, Corythus, pursu'd: First, Corythus, with downy Cheeks, he slew; Whose Fall, when fierce Evagrus had in view, He cry'd, What Palm is from a beardless Prey? Rhætus prevents what more he had to say; And drove within his Mouth the fi'ry Death, Which enter'd hissing in, and choak'd his Breath. At Dryas next he flew: But weary Chance, Nor longer wou'd the same Success advance. For while he whirl'd in fi'ry Circles round The Brand, a sharpen'd Stake strong Dryas found; And in the Shoulder's Joint inflicts the Wound. The Weapon stuck; which, roaring out with Pain, He drew; nor longer durst the Fight maintain, But turn'd his Back, for Fear; and fled amain. With him fled Orneus, with like Dread possess'd; Thaumas, and Medon wounded in the Breast; And Mermeros, in the late Race renown'd, Now limping ran, and tardy with his Wound. Pholus,