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favourā€™d side.
Cries, murmurs, clamours, with a mixing sound,
From woods to woods, from hills to hills rebound.

Amidst the loud applauses of the shore,
Gyas outstrippā€™d the rest, and sprung before:
Cloanthus, better mannā€™d, pursued him fast,
But his oā€™er-masted galley checkā€™d his haste.
The Centaur and the Dolphin brush the brine
With equal oars, advancing in a line;
And now the mighty Centaur seems to lead,
And now the speedy Dolphin gets ahead;
Now board to board the rival vessels row,
The billows lave the skies, and ocean groans below.
They reachā€™d the mark; proud Gyas and his train
In triumph rode, the victors of the main;
But, steering round, he chargā€™d his pilot stand
More close to shore, and skim along the sandā ā€”
ā€œLet others bear to sea!ā€ Menoetes heard;
But secret shelves too cautiously he fearā€™d,
And, fearing, sought the deep; and still aloof he steerā€™d.
With louder cries the captain callā€™d again:
ā€œBear to the rocky shore, and shun the main.ā€
He spoke, and, speaking, at his stern he saw
The bold Cloanthus near the shelvings draw.
Betwixt the mark and him the Scylla stood,
And in a closer compass plowā€™d the flood.
He passā€™d the mark; and, wheeling, got before:
Gyas blasphemā€™d the gods, devoutly swore,
Cried out for anger, and his hair he tore.
Mindless of othersā€™ lives (so high was grown
His rising rage) and careless of his own,
The trembling dotard to the deck he drew;
Then hoisted up, and overboard he threw:
This done, he seizā€™d the helm; his fellows cheerā€™d,
Turnā€™d short upon the shelfs, and madly steerā€™d.

Hardly his head the plunging pilot rears,
Cloggā€™d with his clothes, and cumberā€™d with his years:
Now dropping wet, he climbs the cliff with pain.
The crowd, that saw him fall and float again,
Shout from the distant shore; and loudly laughā€™d,
To see his heaving breast disgorge the briny draught.
The following Centaur, and the Dolphinā€™s crew,
Their vanishā€™d hopes of victory renew;
While Gyas lags, they kindle in the race,
To reach the mark. Sergesthus takes the place;
Mnestheus pursues; and while around they wind,
Comes up, not half his galleyā€™s length behind;
Then, on the deck, amidst his mates appearā€™d,
And thus their drooping courages he cheerā€™d:
ā€œMy friends, and Hectorā€™s followers heretofore,
Exert your vigour; tug the labā€™ring oar;
Stretch to your strokes, my still unconquerā€™d crew,
Whom from the flaming walls of Troy I drew.
In this, our common intā€™rest, let me find
That strength of hand, that courage of the mind,
As when you stemmā€™d the strong Malean flood,
And oā€™er the Syrtesā€™ broken billows rowā€™d.
I seek not now the foremost palm to gain;
Thoā€™ yetā ā€”But, ah! that haughty wish is vain!
Let those enjoy it whom the gods ordain.
But to be last, the lags of all the race!ā ā€”
Redeem yourselves and me from that disgrace.ā€
Now, one and all, they tug amain; they row
At the full stretch, and shake the brazen prow.
The sea beneath ā€™em sinks; their labā€™ring sides
Are swellā€™d, and sweat runs guttā€™ring down in tides.
Chance aids their daring with unhopā€™d success;
Sergesthus, eager with his beak to press
Betwixt the rival galley and the rock,
Shuts up thā€™ unwieldly Centaur in the lock.
The vessel struck; and, with the dreadful shock,
Her oars she shiverā€™d, and her head she broke.
The trembling rowers from their banks arise,
And, anxious for themselves, renounce the prize.
With iron poles they heave her off the shores,
And gather from the sea their floating oars.
The crew of Mnestheus, with elated minds,
Urge their success, and call the willing winds;
Then ply their oars, and cut their liquid way
In larger compass on the roomy sea.
As, when the dove her rocky hold forsakes,
Rousā€™d in a fright, her sounding wings she shakes;
The cavern rings with clattā€™ring; out she flies,
And leaves her callow care, and cleaves the skies:
At first she flutters; but at length she springs
To smoother flight, and shoots upon her wings:
So Mnestheus in the Dolphin cuts the sea;
And, flying with a force, that force assists his way.
Sergesthus in the Centaur soon he passā€™d,
Wedgā€™d in the rocky shoals, and sticking fast.
In vain the victor he with cries implores,
And practices to row with shatterā€™d oars.
Then Mnestheus bears with Gyas, and outflies:
The ship, without a pilot, yields the prize.
Unvanquishā€™d Scylla now alone remains;
Her he pursues, and all his vigour strains.
Shouts from the favā€™ring multitude arise;
Applauding Echo to the shouts replies;
Shouts, wishes, and applause run rattling throā€™ the skies.
These clamours with disdain the Scylla heard,
Much grudgā€™d the praise, but more the robbā€™d reward:
Resolvā€™d to hold their own, they mend their pace,
All obstinate to die, or gain the race.
Raisā€™d with success, the Dolphin swiftly ran;
For they can conquer, who believe they can.
Both urge their oars, and fortune both supplies,
And both perhaps had sharā€™d an equal prize;
When to the seas Cloanthus holds his hands,
And succour from the watā€™ry powā€™rs demands:
ā€œGods of the liquid realms, on which I row!
If, givā€™n by you, the laurel bind my brow,
Assist to make me guilty of my vow!
A snow-white bull shall on your shore be slain;
His offerā€™d entrails cast into the main,
And ruddy wine, from golden goblets thrown,
Your grateful gift and my return shall own.ā€
The choir of nymphs, and Phorcus, from below,
With virgin Panopea, heard his vow;
And old Portunus, with his breadth of hand,
Pushā€™d on, and sped the galley to the land.
Swift as a shaft, or winged wind, she flies,
And, darting to the port, obtains the prize.

The herald summons all, and then proclaims
Cloanthus conquā€™ror of the naval games.
The prince with laurel crowns the victorā€™s head,
And three fat steers are to his vessel led,
The shipā€™s reward; with genā€™rous wine beside,
And sums of silver, which the crew divide.
The leaders are distinguishā€™d from the rest;
The victor honourā€™d with a nobler vest,
Where gold and purple strive in equal rows,
And needlework its happy cost bestows.
There Ganymede is wrought with living art,
Chasing throā€™ Idaā€™s groves the trembling hart:
Breathless he seems, yet eager to pursue;
When from aloft descends, in open view,
The bird of Jove, and, sousing on his prey,
With crooked talons bears the boy away.
In vain, with lifted hands and gazing eyes,
His guards behold him soaring throā€™ the skies,
And dogs pursue his flight with imitated cries.

Mnestheus the second victor was declarā€™d;
And, summonā€™d there, the second prize he sharā€™d.
A coat of mail, brave Demoleus bore,
More brave Aeneas from his shoulders tore,
In single combat on the Trojan shore:
This was ordainā€™d for Mnestheus to possess;
In war for his defence, for

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