Him flying wounded in the spine between His shoulders, and the spear urged through his breast.70 Prone on his loud-resounding arms he fell. Next, by Meriones, Phereclus died, Son of Harmonides. All arts that ask A well-instructed hand his sire had learn’d, For Pallas dearly loved him. He the fleet,75 Prime source of harm to Troy and to himself, For Paris built, unskill’d to spell aright The oracles predictive of the wo. Phereclus fled; Meriones his flight Outstripping, deep in his posterior flesh80 A spear infix’d; sliding beneath the bone It grazed his bladder as it pass’d, and stood Protruded far before. Low on his knees Phereclus sank, and with a shriek expired. Pedæus, whom, although his spurious son,85 Antenor’s wife, to gratify her lord, Had cherish’d as her own—him Meges slew. Warlike Phylides[5] following close his flight, His keen lance drove into his poll, cut sheer His tongue within, and through his mouth enforced90 The glittering point. He, prostrate in the dust, The cold steel press’d between his teeth and died. Eurypylus, Evemon’s son, the brave Hypsenor slew; Dolopion was his sire, Priest of Scamander, reverenced as a God.95 In vain before Eurypylus he fled; He, running, with his falchion lopp’d his arm Fast by the shoulder; on the field his hand Fell blood-distained, and destiny severe With shades of death for ever veil’d his eyes.100 Thus strenuous they the toilsome battle waged. But where Tydides fought, whether in aid Of Ilium’s host, or on the part of Greece, Might none discern. For as a winter-flood Impetuous, mounds and bridges sweeps away;[6]105 The buttress’d bridge checks not its sudden force, The firm inclosure of vine-planted fields Luxuriant, falls before it; finish’d works Of youthful hinds, once pleasant to the eye, Now levell’d, after ceaseless rain from Jove;110 So drove Tydides into sudden flight The Trojans; phalanx after phalanx fled Before the terror of his single arm. When him Lycaon’s son illustrious saw Scouring the field, and from before his face115 The ranks dispersing wide, at once he bent Against Tydides his elastic bow. The arrow met him in his swift career Sure-aim’d; it struck direct the hollow mail Of his right shoulder, with resistless force120 Transfix’d it, and his hauberk stain’d with blood. Loud shouted then Lycaon’s son renown’d. Rush on, ye Trojans, spur your coursers hard. Our fiercest foe is wounded, and I deem His death not distant far, if me the King[7]125 Jove’s son, indeed, from Lycia sent to Troy. So boasted Pandarus. Yet him the dart Quell’d not. Retreating, at his coursers’ heads He stood, and to the son of Capaneus His charioteer and faithful friend he said.130 Arise, sweet son of Capaneus, dismount, And from my shoulder draw this bitter shaft. He spake; at once the son of Capaneus Descending, by its barb the bitter shaft Drew forth; blood spouted through his twisted mail135 Incontinent, and thus the Hero pray’d. Unconquer’d daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d!