Then Pallas breath’d in Tydeus’ son; to render whom supreme To all the Greeks, at all his parts, she cast a hotter beam On his high mind, his body fill’d with much superior might, And made his cómplete armour cast a far more cómplete light. From his bright helm and shield did burn a most unwearied fire,[1] Like rich Autumnus’ golden lamp, whose brightness men admire Past all the other host of stars, when, with his cheerful face Fresh wash’d in lofty Ocean waves, he doth the skies enchase. To let whose glory, lose no sight, still Pallas made him turn Where tumult most express’d his pow’r, and where the fight did burn. An honest and a wealthy man inhabited in Troy, Dares, the priest of Mulciber, who two sons did enjoy, Idæus, and bold Phegeüs, well-seen in ev’ry fight. These (singled from their troops, and hors’d) assail’d Minerva’s knight, Who rang’d from fight to fight on foot. All hasting mutual charge, And now drawn near, first Phegeus threw a jav’lin swift and large, Whose head the king’s left shoulder took, but did no harm at all; Then rush’d he out a lance at him, that had no idle fall, But in his breast stuck ’twixt the paps, and strook him from his horse. Which stern sight when Idæus saw, distrustful of his force To save his slaughter’d brother’s spoil, it made him headlong leap From his fair chariot, and leave all; yet had not ’scap’d the heap Of heavy fun’ral, if the God, great President of fire, Had not in sudden clouds of smoke and pity of his sire To leave him utterly unheir’d, giv’n safe pass to his feet. He gone, Tydides sent the horse and chariot to the fleet. The Trojans seeing Dares’ sons one slain, the other fled, Were strook amaz’d. The blue-ey’d Maid (to grace her Diomed In giving free way to his pow’r) made this so ruthful fact A fit advantage to remove the War-god out of act, Who rag’d so on the Ilion side. She grip’d his hand, and said: “Mars, Mars, thou ruiner of men, that in the dust hast laid So many cities, and with blood thy godhead dost distain, Now shall we cease to show our breasts as passionate as men, And leave the mixture of our hands, resigning Jove his right, As Rector of the Gods, to give the glory of the fight Where he affecteth, lest he force what he should freely yield?” He held it fit, and went with her from the tumultuous field, Who set him in an herby seat on broad Scamander’s shore. He gone, all Troy was gone with him, the Greeks drave all before. And ev’ry leader slew a man; but first the king of men Deserv’d the honour of his name, and led the slaughter then, And slew a leader, one more huge than any man he led, Great Odius, duke of Halizons; quite from his chariot’s head He strook him with a lance to earth, as first he flight address’d; It took his forward-turnéd back, and look’d out of his breast; His huge trunk sounded, and his arms did echo the resound. Idomenæus to the death did noble Phæstus wound, The son of Meon-Borus, that from cloddy Terna came;