Thus in the van they shouted, and awoke New courage in the Greeks. As when the flakes Of snow fall thick upon a winter-day, When Jove the Sovereign pours them down on men, Like arrows, from above;—he bids the wind Breathe not; continually he pours them down, And covers every mountaintop and peak, And flowery mead, and field of fertile tilth, And sheds them on the havens and the shores Of the gray deep; but there the waters bound The covering of snows—all else is white Beneath that fast-descending shower of Jove;— So thick the shower of stones from either side Flew toward the other—from the Greeks against The Trojans, and from them against the Greeks; And fearful was the din along the wall.
Yet would illustrious Hector and the men Of Troy have failed to force the gates and burst The bar within, had not all-seeing Jove Impelled his son Sarpedon to attack The Greeks as falls a lion on a herd Of horned beeves. The warrior held his shield, A brazen orb, before him—beautiful, And fenced with metal; for the armorer laid Broad plates without, while under these he sewed Bull’s-hides the toughest, edged with golden wires Upon the rim. With this the warrior came, Wielding two spears. As when a lion, bred Among the mountains, fasting long from flesh, Comes into the fenced pastures, without fear, To prey upon the flock; and though he meet The shepherds keeping watch with dogs and spears, Yet will he not be driven thence until He makes a spring into the fold and bears A sheep away, or in the act is slain, Struck by a javelin from some ready hand;— Sarpedon, godlike warrior, thus was moved By his great heart to storm the wall and break Through the strong barrier; and to Glaucus, son Of Lycia’s king Hippolochus, he said:—
“Why, Glaucus, are we honored, on the shores Of Lycia, with the highest seat at feasts, And with full cups? Why look men up to us As to the gods?