from a cliff before a wintry flood That sweeps it down the steep, when mighty rains Have worn away the props that held it fast; It rolls and bounds on high; the woods around Crash, as it tears its unresisted way Along the slope until it reach the plain, And there, however urged, moves on no more;— So Hector, menacing to cut his way Through tents and galleys to the very sea, Slaying as he went forward, when he now Met the firm phalanxes and pressed them close, Stopped suddenly; the sons of Greece withstood His onset and repulsed it, striking him With swords and two-edged spears, and made the chief Give way before the shock. He lifted up His voice and shouted to the Trojans thus:—
“Trojans and Lycians and Dardanians skilled In fighting hand to hand, stand firm. Not long Will the Greeks bide my onset, though drawn up Square as a tower in close array. My spear, I trust, will scatter them, if true it be That Juno’s husband, Sovereign of the gods, And Lord of thunders, prompts my arm today.”
He spake, and kindled in the breasts of all Fresh courage. In the band Deïphobus Marched proudly, Priam’s son, with his round shield Before him, walking with a quick, light step Behind its shelter. Then Meriones Aimed at the chief his glittering spear; the point Missed not; it struck the orb of bullock’s hide, Yet did not pierce it, for the weapon broke Just at the neck. Deïphobus held forth His shield far from him, dreading to receive A spear-thrust from the brave Meriones. Vexed thus to lose the victory, and the spear Snapped by the blow, Meriones fell back Into the column of his friends, and passed Hastily toward the camp and ships, to bring A powerful spear that stood within his tent, While others fought, and fearful was the din.
Then Teucer first, the son of Telamon, Smote gallant Imbrius, son of Mentor, lord Of many steeds. He, ere the Greeks had come To Troy, dwelt at Pedaeum and espoused Medesicasta, Priam’s spurious child. But when the well-oared galleys of the Greeks Mustered at Troy, he also came,