Shall be a ceaseless scandal and reproach, If me, thus slain before the Grecian ships, The Greeks be suffer’d of my arms to spoil: But stand thou fast, and others’ courage raise.” Thus as he spoke, the shades of death o’erspread His eyes and nostrils; then with foot firm-set Upon his chest, Patroclus from the corpse Drew, by main force, the fast-adhering spear; The life forth issuing with the weapon’s point. Loos’d from the royal car, the snorting steeds, Eager for flight, the Myrmidons detain’d. Deep-grieving, Glaucus heard his voice: and chafed His spirit within him, that he lacked the power To aid his comrade; with his hand he grasp’d His wounded arm, in torture from the shaft By Teucer shot, to save the Greeks from death, As on he pressed to scale the lofty wall: Then to Apollo thus address’d his pray’r: “Hear me, great King, who, as on Lycia’s plains, Art here in Troy; and hear’st in ev’ry place Their voice who suffer, as I suffer now. A grievous wound I bear, and sharpest pangs My arm assail, nor may the blood he stanch’d: The pain weighs down my shoulder; and my hand Hath lost its pow’r to fight, or grasp my spear. Sarpedon, bravest of the brave, is slain, The son of Jove; yet Jove preserv’d him not. But thou, O King, this grievous wound relieve; Assuage the pain, and give me strength to urge My Lycian comrades to maintain the war, And fight myself to guard the noble dead.” Thus as he pray’d, his pray’r Apollo heard, Assuag’d his pains, and from the grievous wound Stanch’ d the dark blood, and fill’d his soul with strength. Glaucus within himself perceiv’d, and knew, Rejoicing, that the God had heard his pray’r. The Lycian leaders first on ev’ry side He urg’d to hasten for their King to fight: Then ’mid the Trojans went with lofty step, And first to Panthous’ son, Polydamas, To brave Agenor and Æneas next; Then Hector of the brazen helm himself Approaching, thus with winged words address’d: “Hector, forgett’st thou quite thy brave allies, Who freely in thy cause pour forth their lives, Far from their home and friends? but they from thee No aid receive; Sarpedon lies in death, The leader of the buckler’d Lycian bands, Whose justice and whose pow’r were Lycia’s shield; Him by Patroclus’ hand hath Mars subdued. But, friends, stand by me now! with just revenge Inspir’d, determine that the Myrmidons Shall not, how griev’d soe’er for all the Greeks Who by our spears beside the ships have fall’n, Our dead dishonour, and his arms obtain.” He said; and through the Trojans thrill’d the sense Of grief intolerable, unrestrain’d; For he, though stranger-born, was of the State A mighty pillar; and his followers A num’rous host; and he himself in fight Among the foremost; so, against the Greeks, With fiery zeal they rush’d, by Hector led, Griev’d for Sarpedon’s loss; on th’ other side Patroclus’ manly heart the Greeks arous’d, And to th’ Ajaces first, themselves inflamed With warlike zeal, he thus address’d his speech: