Save neither life, nor get renown, nor bear more mind than sheep.” This short speech fir’d them in his aid, his spirit touch’d them deep, And turn’d them all before the fleet into a wall of brass; To whose assault Jove stirr’d their foes, and young Atrides was Jove’s instrument, who thus set on the young Antilochus: “Antilochus, in all our host, there is not one of us More young than thou, more swift of foot, nor, with both those, so strong. O would thou wouldst then, for thou canst, one of this lusty throng, That thus comes skipping out before (whoever, any where) Make stick, for my sake, ’twixt both hosts, and leave his bold blood there!” He said no sooner, and retir’d, but forth he rush’d before The foremost fighters, yet his eye did ev’ry way explore For doubt of odds; out flew his lance; the Trojans did abstain While he was darting; yet his dart he cast not off in vain, For Menalippus, that rare son of great Hycetaon, As bravely he put forth to fight, it fiercely flew upon; And at the nipple of his breast, his breast and life did part. And then, much like an eager hound, cast off at some young hart Hurt by the hunter, that had left his covert then but new, The great-in-war Antilochus, O Menalippus, flew On thy torn bosom for thy spoil. But thy death could not lie Hid to great Hector; who all haste made to thee, and made fly Antilochus, although in war he were at all parts skill’d. But as some wild beast, having done some shrewd turn (either kill’d The herdsman, or the herdsman’s dog) and skulks away before The gather’d multitude makes in; so Nestor’s son forbore, But after him, with horrid cries, both Hector and the rest Show’rs of tear-thirsty lances pour’d; who having arm’d his breast With all his friends, he turn’d it then. Then on the ships all Troy, Like raw-flesh-nourish’d lions, rush’d, and knew they did employ Their pow’rs to perfect Jove’s high will; who still their spirits enflam’d, And quench’d the Grecians’; one renown’d, the other often sham’d. For Hector’s glory still he stood, and ever went about To make him cast the fleet such fire, as never should go out; Heard Thetis’ foul petitión, and wish’d in any wise The splendour of the burning ships might satiate his eyes. From him yet the repulse was then to be on Troy conferr’d, The honour of it giv’n the Greeks; which thinking on, he stirr’d, With such addition of his spirit, the spirit Hector bore To burn the fleet, that of itself was hot enough before. But now he far’d like Mars himself, so brandishing his lance As, through the deep shades of a wood, a raging fire should glance, Held up to all eyes by a hill; about his lips a foam Stood as when th’ ocean is enrag’d, his eyes were overcome With fervour, and resembled flames, set off by his dark brows, And from his temples his bright helm abhorréd lightnings throws; For Jove, from forth the sphere of stars, to his state put his own, And all the blaze of both the hosts confin’d in him alone.