But Phineus stands aloof, and dreads to feel His rival’s force, and flies his pointed steel; Yet threw a dart from far; by chance it lights On Idas, who for neither party fights: But wounded, sternly thus to Phineus said: “Since of a neuter thou a foe hast made, This I return thee,” drawing from his side The dart, which, as he strove to fling, he died. Odites fell by Clymenus’s sword; The Cephen court had not a greater lord. Hypseus his blade does in Protenor sheath; But brave Lyncides soon revenged his death. Here too was old Emathion, one that fear’d The gods, and in the cause of Heaven appear’d, Who, only wishing the success of right, And by his age exempted from the fight, Both sides alike condemns: “This impious war Cease, cease,” he cries; “these bloody broils forbear.” This scarce the sage, with high concern, had said, When Chromis, at a blow, struck off his head, Which, dropping, on the royal altar roll’d, Still staring on the crowd with aspect bold; And still it seem’d their horrid strife to blame; In life and death his pious zeal the same: