Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/202

184 Nor ceas'd my Toil, till I redeem'd the Prey, And loaded with Achilles, march'd away: Those Arms, which on these Shoulders then I bore, 'Tis just you to these Shoulders should restore. You see I want not Nerves, who cou'd sustain The pond'rous Ruins of so great a Man: Or if in others equal Force you find, None is endu'd with a more grateful Mind. Did Thetis then, ambitious in her Care, These Arms thus labour'd for her Son prepare; That Ajax after him the heav'nly Gift shou'd wear! For that dull Soul to stare with stupid Eyes, On the learn'd unintelligible Prize! What are to him the Sculptures of the Shield, Heav'n's Planets, Earth, and Ocean's wat'ry Field? The Pleiads, Hyads; less, and greater Bear, Undipp'd in Seas; Orion's angry Star; Two diff'ring Cities, graved on either Hand; Would he wear Arms he cannot understand? Beside, what wise Objections he prepares Against my late Accession to the Wars? Does not the Fool perceive his Argument Is with more Force against Achilles bent? For if Dissembling be so great a Crime, The Fault is common, and the same in him: And if he taxes both of long delay, My Guilt is less, who sooner came away. His pious Mother, anxious for his Life, Detain'd her Son; and me, my pious Wife. To them the Blossoms of our Youth were due, Our riper Manhood we reserv'd for you. But grant me guilty, 'tis not Much my Care, When with so great a Man my Guilt I share: My Wit to War the matchless Hero brought, But by this Fool I never had been caught. Nor