Sarpedon, worthy son to Jove, whose pow’r could yet abstain From all aid in this deadly need; give thou then aid to me, O King of all aid to men hurt; assuage th’ extremity Of this arm’s anguish, give it strength, that by my precedent I may excite my men to blows, and this dead corse prevent Of further violence.” He pray’d, and kind Apollo heard, Allay’d his anguish, and his wound of all the black blood clear’d That vex’d it so, infus’d fresh pow’rs into his weaken’d mind; And all his spirits flow’d with joy that Phœbus stood inclin’d, In such quick bounty, to his pray’rs. Then, as Sarpedon will’d, He cast about his greedy eye; and first of all instill’d To all his captains all the stings, that could inflame their fight For good Sarpedon. And from them, he stretch’d his speedy pace T’ Agenor, Hector, Venus’ son, and wise Polydamas; And (only naming Hector) said: “Hector, you now forget Your poor auxiliary friends, that in your toils have swet Their friendless souls out far from home. Sarpedon, that sustain’d With justice, and his virtues all, broad Lycia, hath not gain’d The like guard for his person here; for yonder dead he lies Beneath the great Patroclus’ lance. But come, let your supplies, Good friends, stand near him. O disdain to see his corse defil’d With Grecian fury; and his arms, by their oppressions spoil’d. These Myrmidons are come enrag’d, that such a mighty boot Of Greeks Troy’s darts have made at fleet.” This said, from head to foot Grief strook their pow’rs past patience, and not to be restrain’d, To hear news of Sarpedon’s death; who, though he appertain’d To other cities, yet to theirs he was the very fort, And led a mighty people there, of all whose better sort Himself was best. This made them run in flames upon the foe; The first man Hector, to whose heart Sarpedon’s death did go. Patroclus stirr’d the Grecian spirits; and first th’ Ajaces, thus: “Now, brothers, be it dear to you, to fight and succour us, As ever heretofore ye did, with men first excellent. The man lies slain that first did scale, and raze the battlement That crown’d our wall, the Lycian prince. But if we now shall add Force to his corse, and spoil his arms, a prise may more be had Of many great ones, that for him will put on to the death.” To this work these were prompt enough; and each side ordereth Those phalanxes that most had rate of resolutions; The Trojans and the Lycian pow’rs; the Greeks and Myrmidons. These ran together for the corse, and clos’d with horrid cries, Their armours thund’ring with the claps laid on about the prise. And Jove, about th’ impetuous broil, pernicious night pour’d out, As long as for his lovéd son, pernicious Labour fought. The first of Troy the first Greeks foil’d; when, not the last indeed Amongst the Myrmidons, was slain, the great Agacleus’ seed, Divine Epigeus, that before had exercis’d command In fair Budeiüs; but because he laid a bloody hand On his own sister’s valiant son, to Peleus and his queen