The crowds increasing, and his friends distress’d Himself by warring multitudes oppress’d; “Since thus unequally you fight, ’tis time,” He cried, “to punish your presumptuous crime: Beware, my friends:” his friends were soon prepar’d; Their sight averting, high the head he rear’d, And Gorgon on his foes severely stared. “Vain shift!” says Thescelus, with aspect bold, “Thee and thy bugbear monster I behold With scorn:” he lifts his arm, but ere he threw The dart, the hero to a statue grew. In the same posture still the marble stands, And holds the warrior’s weapons in its hands. Amphyx, whom yet this wonder can’t alarm, Heaves at Lyncides’ breast his impious arm; But, while thus daringly he presses on, His weapon and his arrn are turn’d to stone. Next Nileus, he who vainly said he owed His origin to Nile’s prolific flood; Who on his shield seven silver rivers bore, His birth to witness by the arms he wore; Full of his sevenfold father, thus express’d His boast to Perseus, and his pride confess’d: “See whence we sprung: let this thy comfort be,