Around his ancle cast dragg’d through the fight350 Patroclus, so to gratify the host Of Ilium and their Chief; but evil him Reached suddenly, by none of all his friends (Though numerous wish’d to save him) turn’d aside. For swift advancing on him through the crowd355 The son of Telamon pierced, spear in hand, His helmet brazen-cheek’d; the crested casque, So smitten, open’d wide, for huge the hand And ponderous was the spear that gave the blow And all around its neck, mingled with blood360 Gush’d forth the brain. There, lifeless, down he sank, Let fall the hero’s foot, and fell himself Prone on the dead, never to see again? Deep-soil’d Larissa, never to require Their kind solicitudes who gave him birth,365 In bloom of life by dauntless Ajax slain. Then Hector hurl’d at Ajax his bright spear, But he, forewarn’d of its approach, escaped Narrowly, and it pierced Schedius instead, Brave son of Iphitus; he, noblest Chief370 Of the Phocensians, over many reign’d, Dwelling in Panopeus the far-renown’d. Entering beneath the clavicle[4] the point Right through his shoulder’s summit pass’d behind, And on his loud-resounding arms he fell.375 But Ajax at his waist wounded the son Of Phœnops, valiant Phorcys, while he stood Guarding Hippothöus; through his hollow mail Enforced the weapon drank his inmost life, And in his palm, supine, he clench’d the dust.380 Then, Hector with the foremost Chiefs of Troy Fell back; the Argives sent a shout to heaven, And dragging Phorcys and Hippothöus thence Stripp’d both. In that bright moment Ilium’s host Fear-quell’d before Achaia’s warlike sons385 Had Troy re-enter’d, and the host of Greece By matchless might and fortitude their own Had snatch’d a victory from the grasp of fate, But that, himself, the King of radiant shafts Æneas roused; Epytis’ son he seem’d390 Periphas, ancient in the service grown Of old Anchises whom he dearly loved; His form assumed, Apollo thus began. How could ye save, Æneas, were the Gods Your enemies, the towers of lofty Troy?395 As I have others seen, warriors who would, Men fill’d with might and valor, firm themselves And Chiefs of multitudes disdaining fear. But Jove to us the victory far more Than to the Grecians wills; therefore the fault400 Is yours, who tremble and refuse the fight. He ended, whom Æneas marking, knew At once the glorious Archer of the skies, And thus to distant Hector call’d aloud. Oh, Hector, and ye other Chiefs of Troy405 And of her brave confederates! Shame it were Should we re-enter Ilium, driven to flight By dastard fear before the host of Greece. A God assured me even now, that Jove, Supreme in battle, gives his aid to Troy.410 Rush, therefore, on the Danaï direct, Nor let them, safe at least and unannoy’d, Bear hence Patroclus’ body to the fleet. He spake, and starting far into the van Stood foremost forth; they, wheeling, faced the Greeks.415 Then, spear in hand, Æneas smote the friend Of Lycomedes, brave Leocritus, Son of Arisbas. Lycomedes saw