Who all gave way, and straight he draws the shaft, which forth he brings Without the forks; the girdle then, plate, curets, off he plucks, And views the wound; when first from it the clotter’d blood he sucks, Then med’cines, wondrously compos’d, the skilful leech applied, Which loving Chiron taught his sire, he from his sire had tried. While these were thus employ’d to ease the Atrean martialist, The Trojans arm’d, and charg’d the Greeks; the Greeks arm and resist. Then not asleep, nor maz’d with fear, nor shifting off the blows, You could behold the king of men, but in full speed he goes To set a glorious fight on foot; and he examples this, With toiling, like the worst, on foot; who therefore did dismiss His brass-arm’d chariot, and his steeds, with Ptolemëus’ son, Son of Piraides, their guide, the good Eurymedon; “Yet,” said the king, “attend with them, lest weariness should seize My limbs, surcharg’d with ord’ring troops so thick and vast as these.” Eurymedon then rein’d his horse, that trotted neighing by; The king a footman, and so scours the squadrons orderly. Those of his swiftly-mounted Greeks, that in their arms were fit, Those he put on with cheerful words, and bad them not remit The least spark of their forward spirits, because the Trojans durst Take these abhorr’d advantages, but let them do their worst; For they might be assur’d that Jove would patronise no lies, And that who, with the breach of truce, would hurt their enemies, With vultures should be torn themselves; that they should raze their town, Their wives, and children at their breast, led vassals to their own. But such as he beheld hang off from that increasing fight, Such would he bitterly rebuke, and with disgrace excite: “Base Argives, blush ye not to stand as made for butts to darts? Why are ye thus discomfited, like hinds that have no hearts, Who, wearied with a long-run field, are instantly emboss’d, Stand still, and in their beastly breasts is all their courage lost? And so stand you strook with amaze, nor dare to strike a stroke. Would ye the foe should nearer yet your dastard spleens provoke, Ev’n where on Neptune’s foamy shore our navies lie in sight, To see if Jove will hold your hands, and teach ye how to fight?” Thus he, commanding, rang’d the host, and, passing many a band, He came to the Cretensian troops, where all did arméd stand About the martial Idomen; who bravely stood before In vanguard of his troops, and match’d for strength a savage boar; Meriones, his charioteer, the rearguard bringing on. Which seen to Atreus’ son, to him it was a sight alone, And Idomen’s confirméd mind with these kind words he seeks: “O Idomen! I ever lov’d thy self past all the Greeks, In war, or any work of peace, at table, ev’rywhere; For when the best of Greece besides mix ever, at our cheer, My good old ardent wine with small, and our inferior mates Drink ev’n that mix’d wine measur’d too, thou drink’st, without those rates,