The chiefs were set; the soldiers crown’d the field; To these the master of the sevenfold shield Upstarted fierce, and kindled with disdain. Eager to speak, unable to contain His boiling rage, he roll’d his eyes around The shore and Grecian galleys haul’d aground; Then, stretching out his hands, “Oh Jove,” he cried, “Must then our cause before the fleet be tried? And dares Ulysses for the prize contend, In sight of what he durst not once defend? But basely fled that memorable day, When I from Hector’s hands redeem’d the flaming prey; So much ’tis safer at the noisy bar With words to flourish, than engage in war. By different methods we maintain our right; Nor am I made to talk, nor he to fight: In bloody fields I labour to be great; His arms are a smooth tongue and soft deceit: Nor need I speak my deeds, for those you see; The sun and day are witnesses for me: Let him who fights unseen relate his own, And vouch the silent stars and conscious moon. Great is the prize demanded, I confess; But such an abject rival makes it less: