Onward, with zeal redoubled, press’d the Greeks, When Hector from the field they saw withdrawn. Foremost of all, Oileus’ active son, With sudden spring assailing, Satnius slew: Him a fair Naiad nymph to Œnops bore, Who by the banks of Satnois kept his herds. Him then, approaching near, Oileus’ son Thrust through the flank: he fell, and o’er his corpse Trojans and Greeks in stubborn fight engag’d. But Panthous’ son a swift avenger came, Polydamas, with brandish’d spear, and struck Through the right shoulder Prothoenor, son Of Areilycus; right through was driv’n The sturdy spear; he, rolling in the dust, Clutch’d with his palms the ground; then, shouting loud, Thus with triumphant boast Polydamas: “From the strong hand of Panthous’ noble son Methinks that not in vain the spear has flown: A Greek now bears it off; and he, perchance, May use it as a staff to Pluto’s realm.” Thus he; the Greeks with pain his vaunting heard; But chief it rous’d the spirit within the breast Of Ajax Telamon, whom close beside The dead had fall’n; he at Polydamas, Retreating, hurl’d in haste his glitt’ring spear; He, springing sideways, ’scap’d the stroke of fate; But young Archilochus, Antenor’s son, Receiv’d the spear, for Heav’n had will’d his death: The spine it struck, the topmost joint, where met The head and neck, and both the tendons broke; Forward he fell; and ere or knee or leg, His head, and mouth, and nostrils struck the ground. Then Ajax, in his turn, exulting, thus: “Say now, Polydamas, and tell me true, May this be deem’d for Prothoenor’s death A full equivalent? no common man He seems, and born of no ignoble race; Valiant Antenor’s brother, or perchance His son; the likeness speaks him near akin.” Thus he, though well he knew; then bitter grief Possess’d the Trojans’ souls; but Acamas, Guarding his brother’s body, with his spear Slew the Bœotian Promachus, who fain Would by the feet have drawn away the dead: Then Acamas, exulting, cried aloud: “Ye wretched Greeks, in boasting measureless! Not ours alone the labour and the loss Of battle; ye too have your share of death. Behold where lies your Promachus, subdued Beneath my spear; not long unpaid the debt Due for my brother’s blood! ’Tis well for him Who leaves a brother to avenge his fate.”