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Behind, the troops advance.

No way is seen

705

T'escape, or fcarce a glorious death to win.

No room with flaughter'd foes to ftrew the plain,
And bravely fall amidst a pile of flain.

A captive to the place he now appears,
Doubtful if death fhould move his hope, or fears. 710
In this diftrefs 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 ftrove the batter'd works to gain,
Amidit 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.

H

T

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