NFL's Gambling Investigation Into Lions Continues

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The Trojan thus: the Spartan monarch burn’d With generous anguish, and in scorn return’d: “Laugh’st thou not, Jove! from thy superior throne, When mortals boast of prowess not their own? Not thus the lion glories in his might, Nor panther braves his spotted foe in fight, Nor thus the boar (those terrors of the plain;) Man only vaunts his force, and vaunts in vain. But far the vainest of the boastful kind, These sons of Panthus vent their haughty mind. Yet ’twas but late, beneath my conquering steel This boaster’s brother, Hyperenor, fell; Against our arm which rashly he defied, Vain was his vigour, and as vain his pride. These eyes beheld him on the dust expire, No more to cheer his spouse, or glad his sire. Presumptuous youth! like his shall be thy doom, Go, wait thy brother to the Stygian gloom; Or, while thou may’st, avoid the threaten’d fate; Fools stay to feel it, and are wise too late.”