opyrus drew his sword, and raised it to cut off his
prisoner's head. At this instant Pyrrhus opened his eyes, and rolled
them up with such a horrid expression as to strike Zopyrus with
terror. His arm consequently faltered in dealing the blow, so that he
missed his aim, and instead of striking the neck, only wounded and
mutilated the mouth and chin. He was obliged to repeat the stroke
again and again before the neck was sundered. At length, however, the
dreadful deed was done, and the head was severed from the body.

Very soon after this, Halcyoncus, the son of Antigonus, rode up to the
spot, and after learning what had occurred, he asked the soldiers to
lift up the head to him, that he might look at it a moment. As soon as
it was within his reach, he seized it and rode away, in order to carry
it to his father. He found his father sitting with his friends, and
threw down the head at his feet, as a trophy which he supposed his
father would rejoice to see. Antigonus was, however, in fact,
extremely shocked at the spectacle. He reproved his son in the
severest terms for his brutality, and then, sending for the mutilated
trunk, he gave to the whole body an honorable burial.

That Pyrrhus was a man of great native power of mind, and of
extraordinary capacity as a military leader, no one can deny. His
capacity and genius were in fact so great, as to make him, perhaps,
the most conspicuous example that the world has produced of the manner
in which the highest power and the noblest opportunities may be wasted
and thrown away. He accomplished nothing. He had no plan, no aim, no
object, but obeyed every momentary impulse, and entered, without
thought and without calculation, into any scheme that chance, or the
ambitious designs of others, might lay before him. He succeeded in
creating a vast deal of turmoil and war, in killing an immense number
of men, and in conquering, though temporarily and to no purpose, a
great many kingdoms. It was mischief, and only mischief, that he did;
and though the scale on which he perpetrated mischief was great, his
fickleness and vacillation deprived it altogether of the dignity of
greatness. His crimes against the peace and welfare of mankind did not
arise from any peculiar depravity; he was, on the contrary, naturally
of a noble and generous spirit, though in process of time, through
the reaction of his conduct upon his heart, these good qualities
almost entirely disappeared. Still, he seems nev