But when a whirlwind, got aloft, stoops with a sudden gale, Tears from his head his tender curls, and tosseth therewithal His fix’d root from his hollow mines; it well presents the force Of Sparta’s king; and so the plant, Euphorbus and his corse. He slain, the king stripp’d off his arms; and with their worthy prise, All fearing him, had clearly pass’d, if heaven’s fair Eye of eyes Had not, in envy of his acts, to his encounter stirr’d The Mars-like Hector; to whose pow’rs the rescue he preferr’d Of those fair arms, and took the shape of Mentas, colonel Of all the Cicones that near the Thracian Hebrus dwell. Like him, he thus puts forth his voice: “Hector, thou scour’st the field In headstrong púrsuit of those horse, that hardly are compell’d To take the draught of chariots, by any mortal’s hand; The great grandchild of Æacus hath only their command, Whom an immortal mother bore. While thou attend’st on these, The young Atrides, in defence of Menœtiades, Hath slain Euphorbus.” Thus the God took troop with men again; And Hector, heartily perplex’d, look’d round, and saw the slain Still shedding rivers from his wound; and then took envious view Of brave Atrides with his spoil; in way to whom he flew Like one of Vulcan’s quenchless flames. Atrides heard the cry That ever usher’d him, and sigh’d, and said: “O me, if I[2] Should leave these goodly arms, and him, that here lies dead for me, I fear I should offend the Greeks; if I should stay and be Alone with Hector and his men, I may be compass’d in, Some sleight or other they may use, many may quickly win Their wills of one, and all Troy comes ever where Hector leads. But why, dear mind, dost thou thus talk? When men dare set their heads Against the Gods, as sure they do that fight with men they love, Straight one or other plague ensues. It cannot therefore move The grudge of any Greek that sees I yield to Hector, he Still fighting with a spirit from heav’n. And yet if I could see Brave Ajax, he and I would stand, though ’gainst a God; and sure ’Tis best I seek him, and then see if we two can procure This corse’s freedom through all these. A little then let rest The body, and my mind be still. Of two bads choose the best.” In this discourse, the troops of Troy were in with him, and he Made such a lion-like retreat, as when the herdsmen see The royal savage, and come on, with men, dogs, cries, and spears, To clear their hornéd stall, and then the kingly heart he bears (With all his high disdain) falls off; so from this odds of aid The golden-hair’d Atrides fled, and in his strength display’d Upon his left hand him he wish’d, extremely busiéd About encouraging his men, to whom an extreme dread Apollo had infus’d. The king reach’d Ajax instantly, And said: “Come, friend, let us two haste, and from the tyranny Of Hector free Patroclus’ corse.” He straight and gladly went; And then was Hector haling off the body, with intent To spoil the shoulders of the dead, and give the dogs the rest,