As Phorcys, son of Phaenops, kept his watch O’er slain Hippothous, him Ajax smote Below the waist; the weighty spear broke through The hollow breastplate, and th’ intestines tore; Prone in the dust he fell, and clutch’d the ground. At this the Trojan chiefs and Hector’s self ’Gan to give way; the Greeks, with joyful shouts, Seiz’d both the dead, and stripp’d their armour off. To Ilium now, before the warlike Greeks, O’ercome by panic, had the Trojans fled; And now had Greeks, despite the will of Jove, By their own strength and courage, won the day, Had not Apollo’s self Æneas rous’d, In likeness of a herald, Periphas, The son of Epytus, now aged grown In service of Æneas’ aged sire, A man of kindliest soul: his form assum’d Apollo, and Æneas thus address’d: “Æneas, how, against the will of Heav’n, Could ye defend your city, as others now In their own strength and courage confident, Their numbers, and their troops’ undaunted hearts, I see their cause maintaining; if when Jove Rather to us than them the vict’ry wills, With fear unspeakable ye shun the fight?” He said: the presence of the Archer-God Æneas knew, and loud to Hector call’d: “Hector, and all ye other chiefs of Troy, And brave Allies, foul shame it were that we, O’ercome by panic, should to Ilium now In flight be driv’n before the warlike Greeks; And by my side, but now, some God there stood, And told how Jove, the sov’reign arbiter Of battle, on our side bestow’d his aid; On then! nor undisturbed allow the Greeks To bear Patroclus’ body to their ships.”