To his rough confluence, far spread; and lusty flourishing vines Drown’d in his outrage; Tydeus’ son so overran the field, Strew’d such as flourish’d in his way, and made whole squadrons yield, When Pandarus, Lycaon’s son, beheld his ruining hand, With such resistless insolence, make lanes through ev’ry band, He bent his gold-tipp’d bow of horn, and shot him rushing in, At his right shoulder, where his arms were hollow; forth did spin The blood, and down his curets ran; then Pandarus cried out: “Rank-riding Trojans, now rush in. Now, now, I make no doubt: Our bravest foe is mark’d for death; he cannot long sustain My violent shaft, if Jove’s fair Son did worthily constrain My foot from Lycia.” Thus he brav’d, and yet his violent shaft Strook short with all his violence, Tydides’ life was saft; Who yet withdrew himself behind his chariot and steeds, And call’d to Sthenelus: “Come, friend, my wounded shoulder needs Thy hand to ease it of this shaft.” He hasted from his seat Before the coach, and drew the shaft; the purple wound did sweat, And drown his shirt of mail in blood, and as it bled he pray’d: “Hear me, of Jove-Ægiochus thou most unconquer’d Maid! If ever in the cruel field thou has assistful stood Or to my father, or myself, now love, and do me good. Give him into my lance’s reach, that thus hath giv’n a wound To him thou guard’st, preventing me, and brags that never more I shall behold the cheerful sun.” Thus did the king implore. The Goddess heard, came near, and took the weariness of fight From all his nerves and lineaments, and made them fresh and light, And said: “Be bold, O Diomed, in ev’ry combat shine, The great shield-shaker Tydeus’ strength (that knight, that sire of thine) By my infusion breathes in thee; and from thy knowing mind I have remov’d those erring mists that made it lately blind, That thou may’st diff’rence Gods from men, and therefore use thy skill Against the tempting Deities, if any have a will To try if thou presum’st of that, as thine, that flows from them, And so assum’st above thy right. Where thou discern’st a beam Of any other Heav’nly Pow’r than She that rules in love, That calls thee to the change of blows, resist not, but remove; But if that Goddess be so bold (since she first stirr’d this war) Assault and mark her from the rest with some infámous scar.” The blue-eyed Goddess vanishéd, and he was seen again Amongst the foremost, who before though he were prompt and fain To fight against the Trojans’ pow’rs, now, on his spirits were call’d With thrice the vigour; lion-like, that hath been lately gall’d By some bold shepherd in a field, where his curl’d flocks were laid, Who took him as he leap’d the fold, not slain yet, but appaid With greater spirit, comes again, and then the shepherd hides, (The rather for the desolate place) and in his cot abides, His flocks left guardless; which, amaz’d, shake and shrink up in heaps; He, ruthless, freely takes his prey, and out again he leaps;