Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/180

164 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 Cæneus 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 struck; 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 Cæneus: 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 Monichus 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,