He came for pardon, and obtain’d; his slaughter being the mean He came to Troy, and so to this. He ventur’d ev’n to touch The princely carcass; when a stone did more to him by much, Sent out of able Hector’s hand; it cut his skull in twain, And strook him dead. Patroclus, griev’d to see his friend so slain, Before the foremost thrust himself. And as a falcon frays A flock of stares or caddesses; such fear brought his assays Amongst the Trojans and their friends; and, angry at the heart, As well as griev’d, for him so slain, another stony dart As good as Hector’s he let fly, that dusted in the neck Of Sthenelaus, thrust his head to earth first, and did break The nerves in sunder with his fall; off fell the Trojans too, Ev’n Hector’s self, and all as far as any man can throw (Provok’d for games, or in the wars to shed an enemy’s soul) A light long dart. The first that turn’d, was he that did control The targeteers of Lycia, prince Glaucus; who to hell Sent Bathyclæus, Chalcon’s son; he did in Hellas dwell, And shin’d for wealth and happiness amongst the Myrmidons; His bosom’s midst the jav’lin strook, his fall gat earth with groans. The Greeks griev’d, and the Trojans joy’d, for so renown’d a man; About whom stood the Grecians firm. And then the death began On Troy’s side by Meriones; he slew one great in war, Laogonus, Onetor’s son, the priest of Jupiter, Created in th’ Idæan hill. Betwixt his jaw and ear The dart stuck fast, and loos’d his soul; sad mists of hate and fear Invading him. Anchises’ son despatch’d a brazen lance At bold Meriones; and hop’d to make an equal chance On him with bold Laogonus, though under his broad shield He lay so close. But he discern’d, and made his body yield So low, that over him it flew, and trembling took the ground, With which Mars made it quench his thirst; and since the head could wound No better body, and yet thrown from ne’er the worse a hand, It turn’d from earth, and look’d awry. Æneas let it stand, Much angry at the vain event, and told Meriones He scap’d but hardly, nor had cause to hope for such success Another time, though well he knew his dancing faculty, By whose agility he scap’d; for, had his dart gone by With any least touch, instantly he had been ever slain. He answer’d: “Though thy strength be good, it cannot render vain The strength of others with thy jests; nor art thou so divine, But when my lance shall touch at thee, with equal speed to thine, Death will share with it thy life’s pow’rs; thy confidence can shun No more than mine what his right claims.” Menœtius’ noble son Rebuk’d Meriones, and said: “What need’st thou use this speech? Nor thy strength is approv’d with words, good friend, nor can we reach The body, nor make th’ enemy yield, with these our counterbraves. We must enforce the binding earth, to hold them in her graves. If you will war, fight. Will you speak? Give counsel Counsel, blows, Are th’ ends of wars and words. Talk here, the time in vain bestows.”