Strike still so sure, and be a grace to ev’ry Grecian, And to thy father Telamon, who took thee kindly home (Although not by his wife his son) and gave thee foster room, Ev’n from thy childhood; then to him, though far from hence remov’d, Make good fame reach; and to thyself, I vow what shall be prov’d: If he that dreadful Ægis bears, and Pallas, grant to me Th’ expugnance of well-builded Troy; I first will honour thee Next to myself with some rich gift, and put it in thy hand: A three-foot vessel, that, for grace, in sacred fanes doth stand; Or two horse and a chariot; or else a lovely dame That may ascend on bed with thee, and amplify thy name.” Teucer right nobly answer’d him: “Why, most illustrate king, I being thus forward of myself, dost thou, adjoin a sting? Without which, all the pow’r I have, I cease not to employ, For, from the place where we repuls’d the Trojans towards Troy, I all the purple field have strew’d, with, one or other slain. Eight shafts I shot, with long steel heads, of which not one in vain, All were in youthful bodies fix’d, well skill’d in war’s constraint; Yet this wild dog; with all my aim, I have no pow’r to taint.” This said, another arrow forth, from his stiff string he sent, At Hector, whom he long’d to wound; but still amiss it went. His shaft smit fair Gorgythion, of Priam’s princely race, Who in Æpina was brought forth, a famous town in Thrace, By Castianira, that, for form, was like celestial breed; And, as a crimson poppy flow’r, surchargéd with his seed, And vernal humours falling thick, declines his heavy brow, So, of one side, his helmet’s weight his fainting head did bow. Yet Teucer would, another shaft at Hector’s life dispose, So fain he such a mark would hit, but still beside it goes; Apollo did avert the shaft; but Hector’s charioteer, Bold Archeptolemus, he smit, as he was rushing near To make the fight; to earth he fell, his swift horse back did fly, And there were both his strength and soul exil’d eternally. Huge grief, for Hector’s slaughter’d friend, pinch’d-in his mighty mind, Yet was he forc’d to leave him there, and his void place resign’d To his sad brother, that was by, Cebriones; whose ear Receiving Hector’s charge, he straight the weighty reins did bear; And Hector from his shining coach, with horrid voice, leap’d on, To wreak his friend on Teucer’s hand; and up he took a stone, With which he at the archer ran; who from his quiver drew A sharp-pil’d shaft, and nock’d it sure; but in great Hector flew With such fell speed, that; in his draught, he his right shoulder strook Where,’twixt his neck and breast, the joint his native closure took. The wound was wondrous full of death, his, string in sunder flees, His numméd hand fell strengthless down, and he upon his knees. Ajax neglected not to aid his brother thus depress’d, But came and saft him with his shield; and two more friends, address’d To be his aid, took him to fleet, Mecisteus, Echius’ son, And gay Alastor.