The humid sweat from every pore descends,
Their bones resound with blows, sides, shoulders, thighs
Swell to each gripe, and bloody tumours rise.
Nor could Ulysses, for his art renowned,
O’erturn the strength of Ajax on the ground;
Nor could the strength of Ajax overthrow
The watchful caution of his artful foe.
While the long strife even tires the lookers-on,
Thus to Ulysses spoke great Telamon:
Or let me lift thee, Chief, or lift thou me,