“Lo, thou art smitten! Not in vain my shaft Has flown; and would that it had pierced thy groin And slain thee! Then the Trojans had obtained Reprieve from slaughter—they who dread thee now As bleating goats a lion.” Undismayed, The valiant Diomed made answer thus:—
“Archer and railer! Proud of thy smart bow, And ogler of the women! Wouldst thou make Trial of valor hand to hand with me, Thy bow should not avail thee, nor thy sheaf Of many arrows. Thou dost idly boast That thou hast hit my foot. I heed it not. It is as if a woman or a child Had struck me. Lightly falls the weapon-stroke Of an unwarlike weakling. ’Tis not so With me, for when one feels my weapon’s touch, It passes through him, and he dies; his wife Tears with her hands her cheeks; his little ones Are orphans; earth is crimsoned with his blood; And flocking round his carcass in decay, More numerous than women, are the birds.”
He spake. Ulysses, mighty with the spear, Came near and stood before him while he sat Concealed, and drew the arrow from his foot. Keen was the agony that suddenly Shot through his frame: he leaped into his car, And bade his charioteer make haste to reach The roomy ships: the pain had reached his heart. Ulysses, the great spearman, now was left Alone, no Greek remaining by his side; For fear had seized them all. With inward grief The hero thus addressed his mighty soul:—
“What will become of me? A great disgrace Will overtake me if I flee in fear Before this multitude; and worse will be My fate if I am taken here alone, While Jove has driven away the other Greeks In terror. Why these questions, since I know That cowards skulk from combat, while the brave, Wounded or wounding others, keeps his ground?”
While thus he reasoned with himself, the ranks Of Trojans armed with bucklers came and closed Around their dreaded enemy. As when A troop of vigorous dogs and youths assail From every side a wild boar issuing