Each combatant with beak and pounces press’d, In wrathful ire, his adversary’s breast; Each falls a victim, to preserve the fame Of that great hero whence their being came. From him their courage and their name they take; And, as they lived, they die for Memnon’s sake. Punctual to time, with each revolving year, In fresh array the champion birds appear; Again, prepared with vengeful minds, they come To bleed, in honour of the soldier’s tomb.

Therefore in others it appear’d not strange To grieve for Hecuba’s unhappy change: But poor Aurora had enough to do With her own loss, to mind another’s wo; Who still in tears her tender nature shows, Besprinkling all the world with pearly dews.