So toiled the warriors through that stubborn fight, When cruel fate urged on Tlepoemus, The great and valiant son of Hercules, To meet Sarpedon, mighty as a god. And now as each to each advanced—the son And grandson of the cloud-compeller Jove— Thus first Tlepolemus addressed his foe:—
“Sarpedon, Lycian monarch, what has brought Thee hither, trembling thus, and inexpert In battle? Lying flatterers are they That call thee son of Jupiter who bears The aegis; for unlike the heroes thou, Born to the Thunderer in times of old, Nor like my daring father, Hercules The lion-hearted, who once came to Troy To claim the coursers of Laomedon. With but six ships, and warriors but a few, He laid the city waste and made its streets A desolation. Thou art weak of heart, And round thee are thy people perishing; Yet, even wert thou brave, thy presence here From Lycia’s coast would prove of small avail To Troy; for, slain in combat here by me, Thou to the gates of Hades shalt go down.”
Sarpedon, leader of the Lycians, thus Made answer: “True it is, Tlepolemus, That he laid waste the sacred city of Troy For the base dealings of Laomedon, The monarch who with railing words repaid His great deservings, and kept back the steeds For which he came so far. But thou—thy fate Is slaughter and black death from this my spear; And fame will come to me, and one more soul Go down to Hades.” As Sarpedon spake, Tlepolemus upraised his ashen spear, And from the hands of both the chiefs at once Their massive weapons flew. Sarpedon smote Full in the throat his foe; the cruel point Passed through the neck, and night came o’er his eyes. Tlepolemus, in turn, on the left thigh Had struck Sarpedon with his ponderous lance. The weapon, cast with vigorous hand and arm, Pierced deep, and touched the bone; but Jupiter Averted from his son the doom of death.