Then the son of Saturn, looking down from Ida, stretched for them the contest with equal tension, and they slaughtered one another. The son of Tydeus indeed wounded on the hip, with his spear, the hero Agastrophus, son of Pæon; for his horses were not at hand for him to take flight; but he had erred greatly in his mind, for his attendant kept them apart, whilst he rushed on foot through the foremost combatants, till he lost his life. But Hector quickly perceived it along the ranks, and hastened towards them, shouting; and with him followed the phalanxes of the Trojans. Diomede, brave in the din of battle, beholding him, shuddered, and immediately addressed Ulysses, who was near: “Towards us is this great destruction, dreadful Hector, now rolled. But come, let us stand firm, and awaiting, repulse [him].” He said, and brandishing his long-shadowed spear, hurled it, and smote him on the summit of the helmet on his head; nor, aiming did he miss. But brass wandered from brass, nor did it reach the white skin; for the threefold oblong helmet stopped it, which Phœbus Apollo had given him. Hector hastily retired to a distance, and was mingled with the crowd. And he (Hector) falling upon his knee, remained so, and supported himself with his strong hand against the earth, whilst dark night overshadowed his eyes. But whilst the son of Tydeus was following after the impulse of the spear far through the foremost combatants, where it was fixed in the earth, Hector, in the meantime, breathed again, and springing again into his chariot, drove into the crowd, and avoided black death. And valiant Diomede, rushing upon him with his spear, addressed him: “Dog, thou hast escaped indeed death at present, although destruction approached near thee. Now again has Phœbus Apollo rescued thee, to whom thou art wont to offer prayers, advancing into the clash of spears. But I will assuredly make an end of thee, meeting thee again, if perchance any one of the gods be an ally to me. Now, however, I will go against others, whomsoever I can find.” He said, and slew the spear-renowned son of Pæon. But Paris, the husband of fair-haired Helen, leaning against a pillar, at the tomb of the deceased hero, Dardanian Ilus, the aged leader of the people, bent his bow against the son of Tydeus, the shepherd of the people. Whilst he was removing the variegated corslet from the breast of gallant Agastrophus, the shield from his shoulders, and his heavy casque, he (Paris) in the meantime was drawing back the horn of his bow, and struck him on the broad part of the right foot, nor did the weapon escape in vain from his hand; and the arrow went entirely into the ground. And he, laughing very joyfully, sprang from his ambuscade, and boasting, spoke: