He said, and from his car Thymbraeus hurl’d, Through the left breast transfix’d: Ulysses’ hand His charioteer, the brave Molion, slew. These left they there, no more to share the fight; Then turning, spread confusion ’mid the crowd: As turn two boars upon the hunter’s pack With desp’rate courage, turning so to bay, Those two, the Trojans scatt’ring, gave the Greeks, From Hector flying, time again to breathe. A car they seiz’d which bore two valiant chiefs, Sons of Percotian Merops; he, o’er all In lore prophetic skill’d, would fain at home Have kept them from the life-destroying war: But they, by adverse fate impell’d to seek Their doom of death, his warning voice despis’d. These two, of strength and life at once bereft, The son of Tydeus, valiant Diomed, Stripp’d of their armour; while Ulysses slew Hippodamus, and bold Hyperochus. Thus Jove, from Ida’s height beholding, held His even scale, each party slaught’ring each. Then with his spear Tydides through the loins Agastrophus, the son of Paeon, smote; No car had he at hand, whereto to fly: But, ill-advis’d, had in th’ attendants’ charge His horses left far off; while he himself Rush’d ’mid the throng on foot, and met his doom. Hector’s quick glance athwart the files beheld, And to the rescue, with a shout, he sprang, The Trojan columns following; not unmov’d The valiant Diomed his coming saw, And thus bespoke Ulysses at his side: “On us this plague, this mighty Hector, falls: Yet stand we firm, and boldly meet the shock.” He said, and, poising, hurl’d his pond’rous spear, And not in vain; on Hector’s head it struck His helmet’s crest, but, brass encount’ring brass, Himself it reach’d not; for the visor’d helm, Apollo’s gift, three-plated, stay’d its force. Yet backward Hector sprang amid the crowd, And on his knees he dropp’d, his stalwart hand Propp’d on the ground; while darkness veil’d his eyes. But ere Tydides, following up his spear, Attain’d from far the spot whereon he fell, Hector reviv’d, and mounting quick his car, Drove ’mid the crowd, and ’scap’d the doom of death Then thus, with threat’ning spear, Tydides cried: “Yet once again, vile hound, hast thou escap’d; Thy doom was nigh; but thee thy God hath sav’d, Phoebus, to whom, amid the clash of spears, Well mayst thou pray! We yet shall meet again; When I shall end thee, if a guardian God I too may claim; meanwhile from thee I turn, And others seek on whom my hap may light.”