“Hector, we here, on th’ outskirts of the field, O’erpow’r the Greeks; on th’ other side, our friends In strange confusion mingled, horse and man, Are driv’n; among them Ajax spreads dismay, The son of Telamon; I know him well, And the broad shield that o’er his shoulders hangs; Thither direct we then our car, where most In mutual slaughter horse and foot engage, And loudest swells, uncheck’d, the battle cry.” He said, and with the pliant lash he touch’d The sleek-skinn’d horses; springing at the sound, Between the Greeks and Trojans, light they bore The flying car, o’er bodies of the slain And broken bucklers trampling; all beneath Was plash’d with blood the axle, and the rails Around the car, as from the horses’ feet, And from the felloes of the wheels, were thrown The bloody gouts; yet on he sped, to join The strife of men, and break th’ opposing ranks. His coming spread confusion ’mid the Greeks, His spear awhile withheld; then through the rest, With sword, and spear, and pond’rous stones he rush’d, But shunn’d the might of Ajax Telamon. But Jove, high thron’d, the soul of Ajax fill’d With fear; aghast he stood; his sev’nfold shield He threw behind his back, and, trembling, gaz’d Upon the crowd; then, like some beast of prey, Foot slowly following foot, reluctant turn’d. As when the rustic youths and dogs have driv’n A tawny lion from the cattle fold, Watching all night, and baulk’d him of his prey; Rav’ning for flesh, he still th’ attempt renews, But still in vain: for many a jav’lin, hurl’d By vig’rous arms, confronts him to his face, And blazing faggots, that his courage daunt; Till, with the dawn, reluctant he retreat: So from before the Trojans Ajax turn’d, Reluctant, fearing for the ships of Greece. As near a field of corn, a stubborn ass, Upon whose sides had many a club been broke, O’erpow’rs his boyish guides, and ent’ring in, On the rich forage grazes; while the boys Their cudgels ply, but vain their puny strength, Yet drive him out, when fully fed, with ease: Ev’n so great Ajax, son of Telamon, The valiant Trojans and their fam’d Allies, Still thrusting at his shield, before them drove: Yet would he sometimes, rallying, hold in check The Trojan host; then turn again to flight, Yet barring still the passage to the ships. Midway between the Trojans and the Greeks He stood defiant; many jav’lins, hurl’d By vig’rous arms, were in their flight receiv’d On his broad shield; and many, ere they reach’d Their living mark, fell midway on the plain, Fix’d in the ground, in vain athirst for blood. Him thus, hard press’d by thick-thrown spears, beheld Eurypylus, Euaemon’s noble son. He hasten’d up, and aim’d his glitt’ring spear; And Apisaon, Phausias’ noble son, Below the midriff through the liver struck, And straight relax’d in sudden death his limbs. Forth sprang Eurypylus to seize the spoils: But godlike Paris saw, and as he stoop’d From Apisaon’s corpse to strip his arms, Against Eurypylus he bent his bow,