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In shoals before him fly the scaly train,
Confusedly heap'd they seek their inmost caves,
Or pant and heave beneath the floating waves.
Now, tired with slaughter, from the Trojan band
Twelve chosen youths he drags alive to land;
With their rich belts their captive arms restrains
(
Late their proud ornaments, but now their chains).
These his attendants to the ships convey'd,
Sad victims destined to Patroclus' shade;
Then, as once more he plunged amid the flood,
The young Lycaon in his passage stood;
The son of Priam; whom the hero's hand
But late made captive in his father's land
(
As from a sycamore, his sounding steel
Lopp'd the green arms to spoke a chariot wheel)
To Lemnos' isle he sold the royal slave,
Where Jason's son the price demanded gave;
But kind Eetion, touching on the shore,
The ransom'd prince to fair Arisbe bore.
Ten days were past, since in his father's reign
He felt the sweets of liberty again;
The next, that god whom men in vain withstand
Gives the same youth to the same conquering hand
Now never to return! and doom'd to go
A sadder journey to the shades below.
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