But out of Order thrown, in Air they joyn,
And Multitude makes frustrate the Design.
With both his Hands the proud Ancæus takes,
And flourishes his double-biting Ax:
Then, forward to his Fate he took a Stride
Before the rest, and to his Fellows cry'd,
Give place, and mark the Diff'rence, if you can,
Between a Woman Warrior, and a Man;
The Boar is doom'd; nor though Diana lend
Her Aid, Diana can her Beast defend.
Thus boasted he; then stretch'd, on Tiptoe stood,
Secure to make his empty Promise good.
But the more wary Beast prevents the Blow,
And upward rips the Groin of his audacious Foe.
Ancæus falls; his Bowels from the Wound
Rush out, and clotted Blood distains the Ground.
Perithous, no small Portion of the War,
Press'd on, and shook his Lance: To whom from far
Thus Theseus cry'd; O stay, my better Part,
My more than Mistress; of my Heart, the Heart.
The Strong may fight aloof; Ancæus try'd
His Force too near, and by presuming dy'd:
He said, and while he spake his Javelin threw,
Hissing in Air th' unerring Weapon flew;
But on an Arm of Oak, that stood betwixt
The Marks-Man, and the Mark, his Lance he fixt.
Once more bold Jason threw, but fail'd to wound
The Boar, and slew an undeserving Hound,
And through the Dog the Dart was nail'd to Ground.
Two Spears from Meleager's Hand were sent,
With equal Force, but various in th' Event:
The first was fix'd in Earth, the second stood
On the Boar's bristled Back, and deeply drank his Blood.
Now while the tortur'd Savage turns around,
And flings about his Foam, impatient of the Wound,
The