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Behind, the troops advance. No way is seen 705
Here the original poem breaks off abruptly, having been left unfinished by the author.
Behind, the troops advance. No way
705 T'escape, or scarce a glorious death to win. No room with Naughter'd foes to strew the plain, And bravely fall amidst a pile of Nain. 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 Atrove 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.
Anacreon, Ode III.