a prey. 
    But other monsters there enform our eyes,
    What mighty seas from Teuedos arise! 
    The frighted Neptune seems to seek the shore,
    With such a noise, with such a dreadful roar: 
    As in a silent night, when, from afar,
    The dismal sound of wrecks invades the ear: 
    When rolling on the waves two mighty snakes,
    Unhappy Troy descry’d; whose circling stroaks,
    Had drove the swelling surges on the rocks. 
    Like lofty ships they on the billows ride,
    And with rais’d breasts the foaming flood divide: 
    Their crests they brandish and red eye-balls raise,
    That all around dispence a sulphurous blaze. 
    To shore advancing, now the waves appear
    All fire; unwonted ratlings fill the air. 
    The ocean trembles at their dreadful hiss;
    All are amaz’d:  When in a Trojan dress;
    And holy wreaths their sacred temples bind,
    Laocoon’s sons were by the snakes entwin’d: 
    Now t’wards heaven their little hands are thrown
    Each for his brother, not himself does moan,
    And prays to save his ruin by his own. 
    Both dye at last, thro’ fear each other shou’d,
    And to give death a greater pomp, the good
    Laocoon to their rescue vainly run,
    Now gorg’d with death, they drag him on the ground
    Up to the altar, where devoted lies
    The priest himself, a panting sacrifice. 
    Thus with his blood the temple they prophane;
    Losing their gods; Troy’s ruin thus began: 
    Now the bright taper of the night appears,
    Gayly attended with a train of stars: 
    When midst the Trojans, dead in sleep and wine,
    The Grecians execute their dire design: 
    When from the open’d caverns of the horse,
    Like a large flood, their hidden troops did gush;
    And now deliver’d, leave their horse and fear,
    With the same wanton motions colts appear: 
    When from the plow, and heavy collar freed,
    They shake their rising crests, and try their speed. 
    Their swords they brandish, and their shields they rear,
    And fix their helmets, then begin the war: 
    A party here o’ th’ drunken Trojans light,
    And send them snoring to eternal night;
    Another there now made their altars smoke,
    And against Troy, Troy’s guardian gods invoke.”

When Eumolpus had gone thus far in his story, the people that were walking there, began to fling stones at him:  But he, conscious of his merit, cover’d his head, and took up his heels:  I, fearing they wou’d have taken me for a poet too, made after him:  When we were out of stone shot of the enemy, “I beseech you, sir,” said I, “what will you do with this disease of yours?  I don’t wonder at the peoples humour, since I have hardly been acquainted with you two hours, and your entertainment has been more poetry than the conversation of a man.  I think I must fill my pocket with stones, that when I perceive you going into a fit, I may bleed you in the head for it, with one of ’em.”