As at the Olympian games or Pythian fields; Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal With rapid wheels, or fronted brigads form: As when, to warn proud cities, war appears Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush To battle in the clouds; before each van Prick forth the aery knights, and couch their spears, Till thickest legions close; with feats of arms From either end of Heaven the welkin burns. Others, with vast Typhoean rage more fell, Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air In whirlwind; Hell scarce holds the wild uproar: As when Alcides, from Oechalia crowned With conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore Through pain up by the roots Thessalian pines, And Lichas from the top of Oeta threw Into the Euboic sea. Others more mild, Retreated in a silent valley, sing With notes angelical to many a harp Their own heroic deeds and hapless fall By doom of battle; and complain that Fate Free Virtue should enthrall to Force or Chance. Their song was partial, but the harmony (What could it less when Spirits immortal sing?)