“Not unaveng’d lies Asius; he, methinks, As I have found him fellowship, with joy Thro’ Hades’ strongly-guarded gates may pass.” He said; the Greeks, indignant, heard his boast; Chief, of Antilochus the manly soul Was stirr’d within him; yet amid his grief His comrade not forgetting, up he ran, And o’er him spread the cover of his shield. Meanwhile, two trusty friends, Mecistheus, son Of Echius, and Alastor, rais’d the slain, And deeply groaning bore him to the ships. Nor did Idomeneus his noble rage Abate; still burning o’er some Trojan soul To draw the gloomy veil of night and death; Or, having sav’d the Greeks, himself to fall. Then high-born Æsuetes’ son he slew, Alcathous; he, Anchises’ son-in-law, The eldest of his daughters had to wife, Hippodamia; by her parents both, O’er all, belov’d; in beauty, skill, and mind, All her compeers surpassing; wife of one, The noblest man through all the breadth of Troy. Him Neptune by Idomeneus subdued; Seal’d his quick eyes, his active limbs restrain’d, Without the pow’r to fly, or shun the spear; Fix’d as a pillar, or a lofty tree, He stood, while through his breast Idomeneus His weapon drove; the brazen mail it broke, Which oft had turn’d aside the stroke of death; Harshly it grated, sever’d by the spear: He fell; the spear-point quiv’ring in his heart, Which with convulsive throbbings shook the shaft. There Mars its course arrested. Then with shouts Of triumph, vaunting, thus Idomeneus: “How now, Deiphobus? are three for one An equal balance? where are now thy boasts? Come forth, my friend, thyself to me oppos’d; And learn, if here, unworthy my descent From Jove, my great progenitor, I stand. He Minos, guardian chief of Crete, begot; Noble Deucalion was to Minos born, I to Deucalion; far extends my rule In wide-spread Crete; whom now our ships have brought, A bane to thee, thy sire, and Trojans all.” He said; and doubtful stood Deiphobus, Or to retreat, and summon to his aid The Trojans, or alone the venture try. Thus as he mus’d, the wiser course appear’d To seek Æneas; him he found apart, Behind the crowd; for he was still at feud With godlike Priam, who, he thought, withheld The public honour to his valour due. To whom Deiphobus, approaching, thus: “Æneas, sagest councillor of Troy, Behoves thee now, if rev’rence for the dead Can move thy soul, thy sister’s husband aid: Haste we to save Alcathous; who of old, When thou wast little, in thy father’s house, Nurs’d thee with tender care; for him, but now, The spear-renown’d Idomeneus hath slain.”