Disaster, yea: and with disaster shame, Which lights Disaster to a twofold flame Of evil. For to die in soldier's wise, [vv. 757-787] Since die we needs must . . . though the man who dies Hath pain . . . to all his house 'tis praise and pride; But we, like laggards and like fools we died! When Hector's hand had showed us where to rest And told the watchword, down we lay, oppressed With weariness of that long march, and slept Just as we fell. No further watch was kept, Our arms not laid beside us; by the horse No yoke nor harness ordered. Hector's force Had victory, so my master heard, and lay Secure, just waiting for the dawn of day To attack. So thought we all, and our lines broke And slept. After a little time I woke, Thinking about my horses, that the morn Must see them yoked for war. I found the corn And gave them plenteously. Then in the deep Shadow I saw two men who seemed to creep Close by our line, but swiftly, as I stirred, Crouched and were seeking to make off unheard. I shouted then, and bade them keep away: Two thieves, I thought, from the great host that lay Round us. They never answered, and, for me, I said no more but turned and presently Was sleeping. In my sleep there came a dream. I seemed to see the horses--mine own team I had trained long since and drove at Rhesus' side-- But wolves were on their backs, wolves, couched astride, Who drove and scourged; I saw the horses rear And stagger with wide nostrils, stiff with fear, And, starting up to drive the beasts away, I woke.--A terror of great darkness lay [vv. 788-809] About me, but I lifted up my head And listened. There was moaning, like the dead That moan at night, and over me there flowed, So soft, so warm--it was my master's blood, Who writhed beside me, dying! With a bound I sprang up, empty-handed, groping round For spear or sword, when, lo, a young strong man Was close to me and slashed, and the sword ran Deep through my flank. I felt its passage well, So deep, so wide, so spreading . . . then I fell. And they, they got the bridles in their hand And fled. . . . Ah! Ah! This pain. I cannot stand. [_The Guards catch him as he reels, and lay him on the ground._ I know, I saw, thus much. But why or how Those dead men went to death I cannot know, Nor by whose work. But this I say; God send 'Tis not foul wrong wrought on us by a friend. LEADER. Good charioteer of that ill-fortuned king, Suspect us not. 'Tis Greeks have done this thing. But yonder Hector comes. He hath been shown The foul deed, and thy sorrows are his own. _Enter_ HECTOR _in wrath, with a band of Guards_. HECTOR.