Thereupon he leapt upon the prostrate charioteer, and Hector sprang forward to defend his comrade's body. So there they met, like two hungry lions fighting for the carcass of a stag; and the Greeks and Trojans thronged on either side to their support, like two winds from opposite quarters, which shatter the boughs of beech and ash in a mountain forest. All the ground about the corpse was set thick with javelins and arrows, and heaped with the stones which crashed upon corslet and shield. And there lay the giant Trojan, while the battle raged above him, mighty and mightily fallen, and all his horsemanship forgot. Never had the arm of Patroclus dealt such havoc among the foemen's ranks as then; for his doom was near, and Zeus gave him honour in this, his latest hour. Thrice he made an onset, fierce as the god of war himself, and thrice he slew nine men. But when for the fourth time he sprang to the encounter, Phœbus made after him, and smote him on the back with his open hand. Patroclus reeled and grew dizzy, like one who has received a sunstroke. Then Apollo struck the helmet from his head, and it rolled clattering among the horses' feet, that mighty brazen helm, whose plumes, now soiled with dust and gore, had once waved above the princely brow of Achilles. The spear was shivered to pieces in his hand, and his shield slipped from his shoulder to the ground. And as he stood thus, defenceless and amazed, a Trojan, whose name was Euphorbus, wounded him between the shoulders with his spear. The blow was not mortal, and Patroclus drew back, to mingle with the press; but Hector followed after him, and drove his spear deep into his side. And as a lion overpowers a wild boar, fighting with him in the lone mountains for the possession of a little spring, and slays him by his might, so slew Hector the valiant son of Menœtius, and stayed the ravage of the Trojan ranks. "Ah! Patroclus," said he, gazing in triumph on the dying hero, "thou thoughtest this day to have taken our city by storm, and led captive the women of Troy. But they have in me a defender who is too strong for thee. Vain man! Achilles, I doubt not, bade thee bring back to him the bloody spoils of Hector, and now thou liest slain by Hector's hand." "Boast not," answered Patroclus faintly. "It is small glory for thee to have slain the slain. I received my death blow from Apollo and Euphorbus, not from thee. And thine own fate shall overtake thee soon, when thou shalt die by the hands of Æacides." Even as he spake the shadow of death fell upon him, and his soul took wing for the realm of Hades, bewailing her lot, leaving all that beauty and manly bloom. The Fight for the Body of Patroclus I