of thy ordering. How hast thou Favored this arrogant crew of Troy, in love With violence, who never have enough Of war and all its many miseries! All other things soon satisfy desire— Sleep, love, and song, and graceful dance, which most Delight in more than warlike toils—yet they Of Troy are never satisfied with war.” So spake the illustrious man, and, having stripped The bloody armor from the dead, he gave The spoil to his companions, and rejoined The warriors in the van. Harpalion then, A son of King Pytemenes, with whom He left his home to join the war at Troy, Assaulted him. He never saw again His native land. Close to Atrides’ shield, He struck it in the centre with his lance, Yet could not drive the weapon through the brass, And backward shrank, in fear of death, among His comrades, looking round him lest some foe Should wound him with the spear. Meriones Let fly a brazen arrow after him, Which, entering his right flank below the bone, Passed through and cleft the bladder. Down he sank Where the shaft struck him, breathing out his life In the arms of his companions. Like a worm He lay extended on the earth; his blood Gushed forth, a purple stream, and steeped the soil. The large-souled Paphlagonians came around, And placed him in a chariot, sorrowing, And bore him to the gates of sacred Troy. The father followed weeping, but no hand Was raised to avenge the slaughter of his son.
Yet deeply moved was Paris at his death, For he had been Harpalion’s guest among The Paphlagonians. Grieving for the slain, He sent a brazen arrow from his bow. Now there was one Euchenor, rich and brave, The son of Polyidus, hoary seer; His dwelling was in Corinth, and he came, Forewarned and conscious of his fate, to Troy; For often Polyidus, good old man, Warned him that he within his palace halls Should perish by a grievous malady, Or else be slain by Trojan hands beside The Grecian fleet. So, to escape at once The censure of the Achaians and disease, He came, lest he in after times might rue His choice. And now between the jaw and ear Did Paris smite him; from the warrior’s limbs Life fled, and darkness gathered o’er his eyes.