on him Honor and fame beyond the other chiefs— And they were many—for his term of life Was to be short. Minerva even now Was planning to bring on its closing day, Made fatal by the might of Peleus’ son. And now he strove to break the Grecian ranks, Assaulting where he saw the thickest crowd And the best weapons; yet in vain he strove With all his valor. Through the serried lines He could not break; the Greeks in solid squares Resisted, like a rock that huge and high By the gray deep abides the buffetings Of the shrill winds and swollen waves that beat Against it. Firmly thus the Greeks withstood The Trojan host, and fled not. In a blaze Of armor, Hector, rushing toward their ranks, Fell on them like a mighty billow raised By the strong cloud-born winds, that flings itself On a swift ship, and whelms it in its spray, While fearfully among the cordage howls The blast; the sailors tremble and are faint With fear, as men who deem their death-hour nigh. So the Greek warriors were dismayed at heart.
As when a hungry lion suddenly Springs on a herd of kine that crop the grass By hundreds in the broad moist meadow-grounds, Beneath the eye of one who never learned To guard his hornèd charge from beasts of prey, But ever walks before them or behind, While the grim spoiler bounds into the midst