But whomsoe’er he follow’d, none he slew,555 Nor was the task possible to a Chief Sole in the sacred chariot, both to aim The spear aright and guide the fiery steeds. At length Alcimedon, his friend in arms, Son of Laerceus son of Æmon, him560 Observing, from behind the chariot hail’d The flying warrior, whom he thus bespake. What power, Automedon! hath ta’en away Thy better judgment, and thy breast inspired With this vain purpose to assail alone565 The Trojan van? Thy partner in the fight Is slain, and Hector on his shoulders bears, Elate, the armor of Æacides. Then, answer thus Automedon return’d, Son of Diores. Who of all our host570 Was ever skill’d, Alcimedon! as thou To rule the fire of these immortal steeds, Save only while he lived, peer of the Gods In that great art, Patroclus, now no more? Thou, therefore, the resplendent reins receive575 And scourge, while I, dismounting, wage the fight. He ceased; Alcimedon without delay The battle-chariot mounting, seized at once The lash and reins, and from his seat down leap’d Automedon. Them noble Hector mark’d,580 And to Æneas at his side began. Illustrious Chief of Trojans brazen-mail’d Æneas! I have noticed yonder steeds Of swift Achilles rushing into fight Conspicuous, but under sway of hands585 Unskilful; whence arises a fair hope That we might seize them, wert thou so inclined; For never would those two dare to oppose In battle an assault dreadful as ours. He ended, nor the valiant son refused590 Of old Anchises, but with targets firm Of season’d hide brass-plated thrown athwart Their shoulders, both advanced direct, with whom Of godlike form Aretus also went And Chromius. Ardent hope they all conceived595 To slay those Chiefs, and from the field to drive Achilles’ lofty steeds. Vain hope! for them No bloodless strife awaited with the force Of brave Automedon; he, prayer to Jove First offering, felt his angry soul with might600 Heroic fill’d, and thus his faithful friend Alcimedon, incontinent, address’d. Alcimedon! hold not the steeds remote But breathing on my back; for I expect That never Priameïan Hector’s rage605 Shall limit know, or pause, till, slaying us, He shall himself the coursers ample-maned Mount of Achilles, and to flight compel The Argive host, or perish in the van. So saying, he call’d aloud on Menelaus610 With either Ajax. Oh, illustrious Chiefs Of Argos, Menelaus, and ye bold Ajaces![9] leaving all your best to cope With Ilium’s powers and to protect the dead, From friends still living ward the bitter day.615 For hither borne, two Chiefs, bravest of all The Trojans, Hector and Æneas rush Right through the battle. The events of war Heaven orders; therefore even I will give My spear its flight, and Jove dispose the rest!620 He said, and brandishing his massy spear Dismiss’d it at Aretus; full he smote His ample shield, nor stay’d the pointed brass, But penetrating sheer the disk, his belt Pierced also, and stood planted in his waist.625