Where many foreheads trod the ground, and where the skirmish burn’d Near Nestor and king Idomen, where Hector over turn’d The Grecian squadrons, authoring high service with his lance, And skilful manage of his horse. Nor yet the discrepance He made in death betwixt the hosts had made the Greeks retire, If fair-hair’d Helen’s second spouse had not repress’d the fire Of bold Machaon’s fortitude, who with a three-fork’d head In his right shoulder wounded him. Then had the Grecians dread. Lest, in his strength declin’d, the foe should slaughter their hurt friend. Then Crete’s king urg’d Neleides his chariot to ascend, And getting near him, take him in, and bear him to their tents. A surgeon is to be preferr’d, with physic ornaments, Before a multitude; his life gives hurt lives native bounds, With sweet inspersion of fit balms, and perfect search of wounds. Thus spake the royal Idomen. Neleides obey’d, And to his chariot presently the wounded Greek convey’d, The son of Æsculapius, the great physician. To fleet they flew. Cebriones perceiv’d the slaughter done By Ajax on the other troops, and spake to Hector thus: “Whiles we encounter Grecians here, stern Telamonius Is yonder raging, turning up in heaps our horse and men; I know him by his spacious shield. Let us turn chariot then, Where, both of horse and foot, the fight most hotly is propos’d, In mutual slaughters. Hark, their throats from cries are never clos’d.” This said, with his shrill scourge he strook the horse, that fast ensu’d Stung with his lashes, tossing shields, and carcasses imbru’d. The chariot tree was drown’d in blood, and th’ arches by the seat Disperpled from the horses’ hoofs, and from the wheel bands beat. Great Hector long’d to break the ranks, and startle their close fight, Who horribly amaz’d the Greeks, and plied their sudden fright With busy weapons, ever wing’d; his lance, sword, weighty stones. Yet charg’d he other leader’s hands, not dreadful Telamon’s; With whom he wisely shunn’d foul blows. But Jove (that weighs above All human pow’rs) to Ajax’ breast divine repressions drove, And made him shun who shunn’d himself; he ceas’d from fight amaz’d, Cast on his back his sev’n-fold shield, and round about him gaz’d Like one turn’d wild, look’d on himself in his distract retreat, Knee before knee did scarcely move. As when from herds of neat, Whole threaves of boors and mongrels chase a lion skulking near, Loth he should taint the well-prized fat of any stall-fed steer, Consuming all the night in watch, he, greedy of his prey, Oft thrusting on is oft thrust off, so thick the jav’lins play On his bold charges, and so hot the burning fire-brands shine, Which he (though horrible) abhors, about his glowing eyne, And early his great heart retires; so Ajax from the foe, For fear their fleet should be inflam’d, ’gainst his swoln heart did go. As when a dull mill ass comes near a goodly field of corn, Kept from the birds by children’s cries, the boys are overborne