“Ajax, thou Heav’n-born son of Telamon, Great chief of men, methinks I hear the voice Of stout Ulysses, as though left alone, And in the stubborn fight cut off from aid, By Trojans overmaster’d. Haste we then, For so ’twere best, to give him present aid. Brave though he be, yet left alone, I fear Great cause we Greeks may have to mourn his loss.” He spoke, and led the way; the godlike chief Follow’d his steps: Ulysses, dear to Jove, Surrounded by the Trojan host they found, As hungry jackals on the mountain side Around a stag, that from an archer’s hand Hath taken hurt, yet while his blood was warm And limbs yet serv’d, has baffled his pursuit; But when the fatal shaft has drain’d his strength, Thirsting for blood, beneath the forest shade, The jackals seize their victim; then if chance A hungry lion pass, the jackals shrink In terror back, while he devours the prey; So round Ulysses, sage in council, press’d The Trojans, many and brave, yet nobly he Averted, spear in hand, the fatal hour; Till, with his tow’r-like shield before him borne, Appear’d great Ajax, and beside him stood. Hither and thither then the Trojans fled; While with supporting arm from out the crowd The warlike Menelaus led him forth, Till his attendant with his car drew near. Then Ajax, on the Trojans springing, slew Doryclus, royal Priam’s bastard son; Next Pyrasus he smote, and Pandocus, Lysander, and Pylartes; as a stream, Swoll’n by the rains of Heav’n, that from the hills Pours down its wintry torrent on the plain; And many a blighted oak, and many a pine It bears, with piles of drift-wood, to the sea So swept illustrious Ajax o’er the plain, O’erthrowing men and horses; though unknown To Hector; he, upon Scamander’s banks Was warring on the field’s extremest left, Where round great Nestor and the warlike King Idomeneus, while men were falling fast, Rose, irrepressible, the battle cry. Hector, ’mid these, was working wondrous deeds, With spear and car, routing th’ opposed youth; Yet had the Greeks ev’n so their ground maintain’d, But godlike Paris, fair-hair’d Helen’s Lord, Through the right shoulder, with a three-barb’d shaft, As in the front he fought, Machaon quell’d: For him the warrior Greeks were sore afraid Lest he, as back the line of battle roll’d, Might to the foe be left; to Nestor then Idomeneus address’d his speech, and said: “O Nestor, son of Neleus, pride of Greece, Haste thee to mount thy car, and with thee take Machaon; tow’rd the vessels urge with speed The flying steeds; worth many a life is his, The skilful leech, who knows, with practis’d hand, T’ extract the shaft, and healing drugs apply.” He said: Gerenian Nestor at the word Mounted his car, Machaon at his side, The skilful leech, sage Æsculapius’ son: He touch’d his horses; tow’rd the Grecian ships, As was his purpose, nothing loth, they flew. To Hector then Cebriones, who saw Confus’d the Trojans’ right, drew near, and said: