As in th’ autumnal season, when the earth With weight of rain is saturate; when Jove Pours down his fiercest storms in wrath to men, Who in their courts unrighteous judgments pass, And justice yield to lawless violence, The wrath of Heav’n despising; ev’ry stream Is brimming o’er: the hills in gullies deep Are by the torrents seam’d, which, rushing down From the high mountains to the dark-blue sea, With groans and tumult urge their headlong course, Wasting the works of man; so urg’d their flight, So, as they fled, the Trojan horses groan’d. The foremost ranks cut off, back tow’rd the ships Patroclus drove them, baffling their attempts To gain the city; and in middle space Between the ships, the stream, and lofty wall, Dealt slaughter round him, and of many a chief The bitter penalty of death requir’d. Then Pronous with his glitt’ring spear he struck, Where by the shield his breast was left expos’d, And slack’d his limbs in death; thund’ring he fell. Next Thestor, son of Œnops, he assail’d; He on his polish’d car, down-crouching, sat, His mind by fear disorder’d; from his hands The reins had dropp’d; him, thrusting with the spear, Through the right cheek and through the teeth he smote, Then dragg’d him, by the weapon, o’er the rail. As when an angler on a prominent rock Drags from the sea to shore with hook and line A weighty fish; so him Patroclus dragg’d, Gaping, from off the car; and dash’d him down Upon his face; and life forsook his limbs. Next Eryalus, eager for the fray, On the mid forehead with a mighty stone He struck; beneath the pond’rous helmet’s weight The skull was split in twain; prostrate he fell, By life-consuming death encompass’d round. Forthwith Amphoterus, and Erymas, Epaltes, Echius, and Tlepolemus, Son of Damastor, Pyris, Ipheus brave, Euippus, Polymelus, Argeas’ son, In quick succession to the ground he brought. Sarpedon his ungirdled forces saw Promiscuous fall before Menoetius’ son, And to the Lycians call’d in loud reproof: “Shame, Lycians! whither fly ye? why this haste? I will myself this chief confront, and learn Who this may be of bearing proud and high, Who on the Trojans grievous harm hath wrought, And many a warrior’s limbs relax’d in death.” He said, and from his car, accoutred, sprang; Patroclus saw, and he too leap’d to earth. As on a lofty rock, with angry screams, Hook-beak’d, with talons curv’d, two vultures fight; So with loud shouts these two to battle rush’d. The son of Saturn pitying saw, and thus To Juno spoke, his sister and his wife: “Woe, woe! that fate decrees my best-belov’d, Sarpedon, by Patroclus’ hand to fall; E’en now conflicting thoughts my soul divide, To bear him from the fatal strife unhurt, And set him down on Lycia’s fertile plains, Or leave him by Patroclus’ hand to fall.”