Yet Paris strove to kindle those faint hearts; For his own heart exulted, and he hoped, Now Peleus' son, the Danaans' strength, had fallen, Wholly to quench the Argive battle-fire: "Friends, if ye help me truly and loyally, Let us this day die, slain by Argive men, Or live, and hale to Troy with Hector's steeds In triumph Peleus' son thus fallen dead, The steeds that, grieving, yearning for their lord To fight have borne me since my brother died. Might we with these but hale Achilles slain, Glory were this for Hector's horses, yea, For Hector--if in Hades men have sense Of righteous retribution. This man aye Devised but mischief for the sons of Troy; And now Troy's daughters with exultant hearts From all the city streets shall gather round, As pantheresses wroth for stolen cubs, Or lionesses, might stand around a man Whose craft in hunting vexed them while he lived. So round Achilles--a dead corpse at last!-- In hurrying throngs Troy's daughters then shall come In unforgiving, unforgetting hate, For parents wroth, for husbands slain, for sons, For noble kinsmen. Most of all shall joy My father, and the ancient men, whose feet Unwillingly are chained within the walls By eld, if we shall hale him through our gates, And give our foe to fowls of the air for meat." Then they, which feared him theretofore, in haste Closed round the corpse of strong-heart Aeacus' son, Glaucus, Aeneas, battle-fain Agenor, And other cunning men in deadly fight, Eager to hale him thence to Ilium The god-built burg. But Aias failed him not. Swiftly that godlike man bestrode the dead: Back from the corpse his long lance thrust them all. Yet ceased they not from onslaught; thronging round, Still with swift rushes fought they for the prize, One following other, like to long-lipped bees Which hover round their hive in swarms on swarms To drive a man thence; but he, recking naught Of all their fury, carveth out the combs Of nectarous honey: harassed sore are they By smoke-reek and the robber; spite of all Ever they dart against him; naught cares he; So naught of all their onsets Aias recked; But first he stabbed Agelaus in the breast, And slew that son of Maion: Thestor next: Ocythous he smote, Agestratus, Aganippus, Zorus, Nessus, Erymas The war-renowned, who came from Lycia-land With mighty-hearted Glaucus, from his home In Melanippion on the mountain-ridge, Athena's fane, which Massikyton fronts Anigh Chelidonia's headland, dreaded sore Of scared seafarers, when its lowering crags Must needs be doubled. For his death the blood Of famed Hippolochus' son was horror-chilled; For this was his dear friend. With one swift thrust He pierced the sevenfold hides of Aias' shield, Yet touched his flesh not; stayed the spear-head was By those thick hides and by the corset-plate Which lapped his battle-tireless limbs. But still