The wound undeadly (setting back his foot to form his stand) Thus spake to Socus: “O thou wretch, thy death is in this hand, That stay’st my victory on Troy, and where thy charge was made In doubtful terms (or this or that) this shall thy life invade.” This frighted Socus to retreat, and, in his faint reverse, The lance betwixt his shoulders fell, and through his breast did perse, Down fell he sounding, and the king thus play’d with his mis-ease: “O Socus, you that make by birth the two Hippasides, Now may your house and you perceive death can outfly the flyer. Ah wretch! thou canst not ’scape my vows. Old Hippasus thy sire, Nor thy well-honour’d mother’s hands, in both which lies thy worth, Shall close thy wretched eyes in death, but vultures dig them forth, And hide them with their darksome wings; but when Ulysses dies, Divinest Greeks shall tomb my corse with all their obsequies.” Now from his body and his shield the violent lance he drew, That princely Socus had infix’d; which drawn, a crimson dew Fell from his bosom on the earth; the wound did dare him sore. And when the furious Trojans saw Ulysses’ forcéd gore, Encouraging themselves in gross, all his destruction vow’d. Then he retir’d, and summon’d aid. Thrice shouted he aloud, As did denote a man engag’d. Thrice Menelaus’ ear Observ’d his aid-suggesting voice, and Ajax being near, He told him of Ulysses’ shouts, as if he were enclos’d From all assistance, and advis’d their aids might be dispos’d Against the ring that circled him, lest, charg’d with troops alone, (Though valiant) he might be oppress’d, whom Greece so built upon. He led, and Ajax seconded. They found their Jove-lov’d king Circled with foes. As when a den of bloody lucerns cling About a goodly-palméd hart, hurt with a hunter’s bow, Whose ’scape his nimble feet enforce, whilst his warm blood doth flow, And his light knees have pow’r to move; but, master’d of his wound, Emboss’d within a shady hill, the lucerns charge him round, And tear his flesh; when instantly fortune sends in the pow’rs Of some stern lion, with whose sight they fly, and he devours; So charged the Ilians Ithacus, many and mighty men. But then made Menelaus in, and horrid Ajax then, Bearing a target like a tow’r, close was his violent stand, And every way the foe dispers’d, when, by the royal hand, Kind Menelaus led away the hurt Laertes’ son, Till his fair squire had brought his horse. Victorious Telamon Still plied the foe, and put to sword a young Priamides, Doryclus, Priam’s bastard son; then did his lance impress Pandocus, and strong Pirasus, Lysander and Palertes. As when a torrent from the hills, swoln with Saturnian show’rs, Falls on the fields, bears blasted oaks, and wither’d rosin flow’rs, Loose weeds, and all disperséd filth, into the ocean’s force; So matchless Ajax beat the field, and slaughter’d men and horse. Yet had not Hector heard of this, who fought on the left wing Of all the host, near those sweet herbs Scamander’s flood doth spring,