"On his proud shield portray'd: 'A naked man

Waves in his hand a blazing torch;' beneath

In golden letters—'I will fire the city.'"

"... No mean device

Is sculptured on his shield: 'A man in arms,

His ladder fix'd against the enemies' walls,

Mounts, resolute, to rend their rampires down;'

And cries aloud (the letters plainly mark'd),

'Not Mars himself shall beat me from the Tow'rs.'"

"... On its orb, no vulgar artist

Expressed this image: 'A Typhæus huge,

Disgorging from his foul enfounder'd jaws,

In fierce effusion wreaths of dusky smoke.

Signal of kindling flames; its bending verge

With folds of twisted serpents border'd round.'

With shouts the giant chief provokes the war,

And in the ravings of outrageous valour

Glares terror from his eyes ..."

"... Upon his clashing shield,

Whose orb sustains the storm of war, he bears

The foul disgrace of Thebes:—'A rav'nous Sphynx

Fixed to the plates: the burnish'd monster round

Pours a portentous gleam: beneath her lies

A Theban mangled by her cruel fangs:'—

'Gainst this let each brave arm direct the spear."

"So spoke the prophet; and with awful port

Advanc'd his massy shield, the shining orb

Bearing no impress, for his gen'rous soul

Wishes to be, not to appear, the best;

And from the culture of his modest worth

Bears the rich fruit of great and glorious deeds."

"... His well-orb'd shield he holds,

New wrought, and with a double impress charg'd:

A warrior, blazing all in golden arms,

A female form of modest aspect leads,

Expressing justice, as th' inscription speaks,

'Yet once more to his country, and once more

To his Paternal Throne I will restore him'—

Such their devices ..."

"Choræbus, with youthful hopes beguil'd,

Swol'n with success, and of a daring mind,

This new invention fatally design'd.

'My friends,' said he, 'since fortune shows the way,

'Tis fit we should the auspicious guide obey.

For what has she these Grecian arms bestowed,

But their destruction, and the Trojans' good?

Then change we shields, and their devices bear:

Let fraud supply the want of force in war.

They find us arms.'—This said, himself he dress'd

In dead Androgeos' spoils, his upper vest,

His painted buckler, and his plumy crest."