He said; and, mounting on the war-car straight, Alcimedon the whip and reins assum’d; Down leap’d Automedon; great Hector saw, And thus address’d Æneas at his side: “Æneas, prince and counsellor of Troy, I see, committed to unskilful hands, Achilles’ horses on the battle-field: These we may hope to take, if such thy will; For they, methinks, will scarcely stand oppos’d, Or dare th’ encounter of our joint assault.” He said; Anchises’ valiant son complied; Forward they went, their shoulders cover’d o’er With stout bull’s-hide, thick overlaid with brass. With them both Chromius and Aretus went; And high their hopes were rais’d, the warriors both To slay, and make the strong-neck’d steeds their prize: Blind fools! nor destin’d scatheless to escape Automedon’s encounter; he his pray’r To Jove address’d, and straight with added strength His soul was fill’d; and to Alcimedon, His trusty friend and comrade, thus he spoke: “Alcimedon, do thou the horses keep Not far away, but breathing on my neck; For Hector’s might will not, I deem, be stay’d, Ere us he slay, and mount Achilles’ car, And carry terror ’mid the Grecian host, Or in the foremost ranks himself be slain.” Thus spoke Automedon, and loudly call’d On Menelaus and th’ Ajaces both: “Ye two Ajaces, leaders of the host, And, Menelaus, with our bravest all, Ye on the dead alone your care bestow, To guard him, and stave off the hostile ranks; But haste, and us, the living, save from death; For Hector and Æneas hitherward, With weight o’erpow’ring, through the bloody press, The bravest of the Trojans, force their way: Yet is the issue in the hands of Heav’n; I hurl the spear, but Jove directs the blow.” He said, and, poising, hurl’d the pond’rous spear; Full on Aretus’ broad-orb’d shield it struck; Nor stay’d the shield its course; the brazen point Drove through the belt, and in his body lodg’d. As with sharp axe in hand a stalwart man, Striking behind the horns a sturdy bull, Severs the neck; he, forward, plunging, falls; So forward first he sprang, then backwards fell: And quiv’ring, in his vitals deep infix’d, The sharp spear soon relax’d his limbs in death. Then at Automedon great Hector threw His glitt’ring spear; he saw, and forward stoop’d, And shunn’d the brazen death; behind him far Deep in the soil infix’d, with quiv’ring shaft The weapon stood; there Mars its impulse stay’d. And now with swords, and hand to hand, the fight Had been renew’d; but at their comrade’s call The two Ajaces, pressing through the throng, Between the warriors interpos’d in haste. Before them Hector and Æneas both, And godlike Chromius, in alarm recoil’d; Pierc’d through the heart, Aretus there they left; And, terrible as Mars, Automedon Stripp’d off his arms, and thus exulting cried: “Of some small portion of its load of grief, For slain Patroclus, is my heart reliev’d, In slaying thee, all worthless as thou art.”