This said, before them all he flew, and all as of a piece Against the Greeks flew. Venus’ son Leocritus did end, Son of Arisbas, and had place of Lycomedes’ friend; Whose fall he friendly pitied, and, in revenge, bestow’d A lance that Apisaon strook, so sore that straight he strow’d The dusty centre, it did stick in that congealéd blood That forms the liver. Second man he was of all that stood In name for arms amongst the troop that from Pæonia came, Asteropæus being the first; who was in ruth the same That Lycomedes was; like whom, he put forth for the wreak Of his slain friend; but wrought it not, because he could not break That bulwark made of Grecian shields, and bristled wood of spears, Combin’d about the body slain. Amongst whom Ajax bears The greatest labour, ev’ry way exhorting to abide, And no man fly the corse a foot, nor break their ranks in pride Of any foremost daring spirit, but each foot hold his stand, And use the closest fight they could. And this was the command Of mighty Ajax; which observ’d, they steep’d the earth in blood. The Trojans and their friends fell thick. Nor all the Grecians stood (Though far the fewer suffer’d fate) for ever they had care To shun confusion, and the toil that still oppresseth there. So set they all the field on fire; with which you would have thought The sun and moon had been put out, in such a smoke they fought About the person of the prince. But all the field beside Fought underneath a lightsome heav’n; the sun was in his pride, And such expansure of his beams he thrust out of his throne, That not a vapour durst appear in all that region, No, not upon the highest hill. There fought they still, and breath’d, Shunn’d danger, cast their darts aloof, and not a sword unsheath’d. The other plied it, and the war and night plied them as well, The cruel steel afflicting all; the strongest did not dwell Unhurt within their iron roofs. Two men of special name. Antilochus and Thrasymed, were yet unserv’d by Fame With notice of Patroclus’ death. They thought him still alive In foremost tumult, and might well, for (seeing their fellows thrive In no more comfortable sort than fight and death would yield) They fought apart; for so their sire, old Nestor, strictly will’d, Enjoining fight more from the fleet. War here increas’d his heat The whole day long, continually the labour and the sweat The knees, calves, feet, hands, faces, smear’d, of men that Mars applied About the good Achilles’ friend. And as a huge ox-hide[3] A currier gives amongst his men, to supple and extend With oil till it be drunk withall; they tug, stretch out, and spend Their oil and liquor lib’rally, and chafe the leather so That out they make a vapour breathe, and in their oil doth go, A number of them set on work, and in an orb they pull, That all ways all parts of the hide they may extend at full; So here and there did both parts hale the corse in little place, And wrought it all ways with their sweat; the Trojans hop’d for grace