'd; for Ethemon fiercely press'd.
He, furious aiming at the hero's neck,
With ill-directed strength, his weapon broke
Against a column;--back the shiver'd point
Sprung, and his throat transfix'd: slight was the wound;
To doom to death unable. Perseus plung'd
His mortal falchion, as the trembling wretch
His helpless arms extended, in his breast.
But now his valor Perseus found oppress'd
By crowds unequal, and aloud exclaim'd;--
"Since thus you force me, from my very foe
"More aid I'll ask;--my friends avert your eyes!"
Then shew'd the Gorgon's head. "Go, elsewhere seek,"
Said Thescelus,--"for those such sights may move:"--
The deadly javelin poising in his hand,
In act to throw, a marble form he stands,
In the same posture. Near him Ampyx rear'd,
Against the brave Lyncides' breast his sword;
His uprais'd hand was harden'd; here, or there,
To wave unable. Nileus now display'd
Seven argent streams upon a shield of gold;
False boasting offspring from the seven-mouth'd Nile;
And cry'd;--"Lo! Perseus, whence my race deriv'd;
"Down to the silent shades this solace bear
"By such a hand to die." The final words
Were lost; his sounding voice abrupt was stay'd;
His open'd mouth still seem'd the words to form,
Incapable to utter. Eryx storm'd
At these, exclaiming;---"not the Gorgon's hairs
"Freeze ye, but your own trembling, dastard souls:
"Rush forth with me, and on the earth lay low,
"The youth who battles thus with magic arms."
Fierce had he rush'd, but firmly fixt his feet
Held him to earth, a rigid, fasten'd stone;
A statue arm'd. These well their fate deserv'd,
But one, Aconteus, while in aid he fought
Of Perseus, sudden stood to stone congeal'd;
As star'd the Gorgon luckless in his face.
Him saw Astyages, but thought he liv'd;
And fierce attack'd him with a mighty sword.
Shrill tinkling sounds the blow: astonish'd stands
Astyages;--astonish'd seems the stone;
For while he stares, he too to marble turns.
Long were the tale, of each plebeian death
To tell; two hundred still unhurt remain;
By Gorgon's head two hundred stiffen'd stand:
When Phineus seems the strife unjust to mourn.
But what to act remains? Around him crowd,
The forms of numerous friends: his friends he knows,
Their aid intreats, and calls on each by name:
Still doubting, seizes those his grasp can reach
And finds them stone! Averse he turns his eye