Book XI

On ravin, rushes forward, yet in vain; For many a javelin flies from daring hands Against him, many a blazing torch is swung, At which, though fierce, he trembles, and at morn Stalks off in sullen mood;⁠—so Ajax, sad At heart, and fearing for the Grecian fleet, Unwillingly fell back before the foe. And as, when entering in a field, an ass Slow-paced, whose flanks have broken many a shaft To splinters, crops the harvest as it grows, And boys attack him with their rods⁠—though small Their strength⁠—but scarce, till he has browsed his fill, Can drive him forth⁠—so did the gallant sons Of Troy, and their allies from distant lands, Continually pursue the mighty son Of Telamon, and hurl their spears against The centre of his shield. And now he wheeled, As conscious of great valor, and repulsed The crowding phalanxes; and now again He turned to flee. And thus he kept the foe From reaching the swift galleys, while he stood Between the Greeks and Trojans, terrible In wrath. The javelins hurled by daring hands Against him⁠—some hung fixed in his broad shield; And many, ere they came to his fair skin, Fell midway⁠—eager though they were to pierce The warrior’s side⁠—and plunged into the earth.