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202 Both rich and poor one common doom

Calls undistinguish'd to the tomb.

If right I deem, one ampler fame

Exalts the great Ulysses' name,

From Homer's sweet poetic song,

Than to his deeds could e'er belong.

Since genius' bright and airy vein

Hallows the fictions of his strain;

And wisdom in sweet fable dress'd

With potent charm allures the breast.

Meanwhile the crowd in error stray,

Darkness still brooding o'er their way;

For had their mind the truth perceived,

Brave Ajax, mad with anger's smart,

When of the arms by them bereaved,

Ne'er with smooth sword had pierced his heart.

Him, rivalling Achilles' might,

Chief of the Grecian host, in fight,

For bright-hair'd Menelaus' bride,

Propitious-breathing zephyrs bore

To Ilus' walls on Phrygia's shore,

In ships that swiftly plough'd the tide.

Gulf'd by the same infernal wave,

The bright and lowly seek the grave.

Yet heroes live beyond the tomb—

Whene'er the muse augments their fame.

To earth's deep-bosom'd centre came,

Soon as he wrought Troy's final doom,

Young Pyrrhus, with the Greeks to aid,

And in the Pythian plain was laid.

Destined to see his purpose fail,

From Scyros when he urged his sail;

Till wandering o'er the watery way,

To Ephyre the warriors stray.