And ringing bells bite not without the spear;
And for this braggart shield, with starry night
Studded, too soon for the fool’s wit that owns it
The scutcheon may prove seer. When death’s dark night
Shall settle on his eyes, and the blithe day
Beams joy on him no more, hath not the shield
Spoken significant, and pictured borne
A boast against its bearer? I, to match
This Tydeus, will set forth the son of Astacus,
A noble youth not rich in boasts, who bows