Yet without the great the small

Ill could guard the city wall;

Leagued together small and great

Best defend the common state.

Fools this precept will not heed,

And these men are fools indeed

Who against thee rail; and we

Can do nothing without thee,

To confound their charge, O King.

Like to birds they flap the wing,

And chatter, when they ’scape thine eye;

But if hovering in the sky

The great vulture should appear,

Mute they cower in sudden fear.

Was it the Tauric Artemis, Jove’s daughter,

(O dread report, begetter of my shame!)

Drave thee the flocks, our common stock, to slaughter?

Didst thou in victory rob her of her claim

To tithe of spoil, her part,

When to thy bow there fell some noble hart?

Or did the mail-clad God of War resent

Thy negligence thank-offering to pay?

By him at night was the delusion sent

That led astray?

Ne’er wouldst thou, Ajax, of thine own intent

Have wrought this havoc and the cattle slain.

Such frenzy comes from Heaven in punishment.

(Zeus and Apollo prove the rumour vain!)

And if the great chiefs falsely charge thee, King,

Spreading foul scandal, or the accursed race

Of Sisyphus, let not this ill fame cling

To us thy friends; no longer hide thy face,