With pitying eyes great Ajax Telamon Beheld their fall; advancing close, he threw His glitt’ring spear; the son of Selagus It struck, Amphius, who in Paesus dwelt, In land and substance rich; by evil fate Impell’d, to Priam’s house he brought his aid. Below the belt the spear of Ajax struck, And in his groin the point was buried deep; Thund’ring he fell; then forward Ajax sprang To seize the spoils of war; but fast and fierce The Trojans show’r’d their weapons bright and keen, And many a lance the mighty shield receiv’d. Ajax, his foot firm planted on the slain, Withdrew the brazen spear; yet could not strip His armour off, so galling flew the shafts; And much he fear’d his foes might hem him in, Who closely press’d upon him, many and brave; And, valiant as he was, and tall, and strong, Still drove him backward; he perforce retired. Thus labour’d they amid the stubborn fight. Then evil fate induc’d Tlepolemus, Valiant and strong, the son of Hercules, Heav’n-born Sarpedon to confront in fight. When near they came, of cloud-compelling Jove Grandson and son, Tlepolemus began: “Sarpedon, Lycian chief, what brings thee here, Trembling and crouching, all unskill’d in war? Falsely they speak who fable thee the son Of aegis-bearing Jove; so far art thou Beneath their mark who claim’d in elder days That royal lineage: such my father was, Of courage resolute, of lion heart. With but six ships, and with a scanty band, The horses by Laomedon withheld Avenging, he o’erthrew this city, Troy, And made her streets a desert; but thy soul Is poor, thy troops are wasting fast away; Nor deem I that the Trojans will in thee (Ev’n were thy valour more) and Lycia’s aid Their safeguard find; but vanquish’d by my hand, This day the gates of Hades thou shalt pass.” To whom the Lycian chief, Sarpedon, thus: “Tlepolemus, the sacred walls of Troy Thy sire o’erthrew, by folly of one man, Laomedon, who with injurious words His noble service recompens’d; nor gave The promis’d steeds, for which he came from far. For thee, I deem thou now shalt meet thy doom Here, at my hand; on thee my spear shall win Renown for me, thy soul to Hades send.” Thus as Sarpedon spoke, Tlepolemus Uprais’d his ashen spear; from both their hands The pond’rous weapons simultaneous flew. Full in the throat Tlepolemus receiv’d Sarpedon’s spear; right through the neck it pass’d, And o’er his eyes the shades of death were spread. On th’ other side his spear Sarpedon struck On the left thigh; the eager weapon pass’d Right through the flesh, and in the bone was fix’d; The stroke of death his father turn’d aside. Sarpedon from the field his comrades bore, Weigh’d down and tortured by the trailing spear, For, in their haste to bear him to his car, Not one bethought him from his thigh to draw The weapon forth; so sorely were they press’d.