Then Glaucus, leader of the Lycian host, To Hector thus, with scornful glance, address’d His keen reproaches: “Hector, fair of form, How art thou wanting in the fight! thy fame, Coward and runaway, thou hast belied. Bethink thee now, if thou alone canst save The city, aided but by Trojans born; Henceforth no Lycian will go forth for Troy To fight with Greeks; since favour none we gain By unremitting toil against the foe. How can a meaner man expect thine aid, Who basely to the Greeks a prize and spoil Sarpedon leav’st, thy comrade and thy guest? Greatly he serv’d the city and thyself, While yet he liv’d; and now thou dar’st not save His body from the dogs! By my advice If Lycians will be rul’d, we take at once Our homeward way, and Troy may meet her doom. But if in Trojan bosoms there abode The daring, dauntless courage, meet for men Who in their country’s cause against the foe Endure both toil and war, we soon should see Patroclus brought within the walls of Troy; Him from the battle could we bear away, And, lifeless, bring to royal Priam’s town, Soon would the Greeks Sarpedon’s arms release, And we to Ilium’s heights himself might bear: For with his valiant comrades there lies slain The follower of the bravest chief of Greece. But thou before the mighty Ajax stood’st With downcast eyes, nor durst in manly fight Contend with one thy better far confess’d.” To whom thus Hector of the glancing helm, With stern regard, replied: “Why, Glaucus, speak, Brave as thou art, in this o’erbearing strain? Good friend, I heretofore have held thee wise O’er all who dwell in Lycia’s fertile soil; But now I change, and hold thy judgment cheap, Who chargest me with flying from the might Of giant Ajax; never have I shrunk From the stern fight, and clatter of the cars; But all o’erruling is the mind of Jove, Who strikes with panic, and of vict’ry robs The bravest; and anon excites to war. Stand by me now, and see if through the day I prove myself the coward that thou say’st, Or suffer that a Greek, how brave soe’er, Shall rescue from my hands Patroclus’ corpse.” He said, and loudly on the Trojans call’d: “Trojans and Lycians, and ye Dardans, fam’d In close encounter, quit ye now like men; Maintain awhile the stubborn fight, while I The splendid armour of Achilles don, My glorious prize from slain Patroclus torn.” So saying, Hector of the glancing helm, Withdrawing from the field, with rapid steps His comrades follow’d, and ere long o’ertook, Who tow’rd the town Achilles’ armour bore; Then standing from the bloody fight aloof The armour he exchang’d; his own he bade The warlike Trojans to the city bear; While he, of Peleus’ son, Achilles, donn’d The heav’nly armour, which th’ immortal Gods Gave to his sire; he to his son convey’d; Yet in that armour grew not old that son.