Behind, the troops advance. No way is seen
T'efcape, or scarce a glorious death to win.
No room with slaughter'd foes to ftrew the plain,
And bravely fall amidst a pile of flain.

705

A captive to the place he now appears,
Doubtful if death should move his hope, or fears. 710
In this distress a fudden thought inspir'd
His hardy breaft, by great examples fir'd;
Bold Scæva's action he to mind recalls,

And glory won near fam'd Dyrrachium's walls;
Where, whilft his men a doubtful fight maintain, 715
And Pompey strove the batter'd works to gain,
Amidst a field of foes, that hemm'd him round,
Alone the brave Centurion kept his ground.

Here the original poem breaks off abruptly, having been left unfinished by the author.

CON

Behind, the troops advance. No way is seen
T'efcape, or fcarce a glorious death to win.
No room with slaughter'd foes to ftrew the plain,
And bravely fall amidst a pile of flain.

705

A captive to the place he now appears,
Doubtful if death should move his hope, or fears. 710
In this distress a sudden thought infpir'd
His hardy breaft, by great examples fir'd;
Bold Scæva's action he to mind recalls,

And glory won near fam'd Dyrrachium's walls;
Where, whilft his men a doubtful fight maintain, 715
And Pompey ftrove the batter'd works to gain,
Amidst a field of foes, that hemm'd him round,
Alone the brave Centurion kept his ground.

Here the original poem breaks off abruptly, having been left unfinished by the author.

CON