Then Hector laid his hand upon the stern Of a stanch galley, beautiful and swift, In which Protesilaüs came to Troy— It never bore him back. Around its keel The Trojans and the Greeks fought hand to hand, And slew each other. For no more they sent The arrow or the javelin from afar, Waiting to see the wound it gave, but each With equal fury pressed upon his foe With halberd and with trenchant battle-axe, Huge sword and two-edged spear. Upon the ground Had fallen many a fair black-hilted sword With solid handles, some from slain men’s hands, Some from lopped arms of warriors; the dark earth Ran red with blood. But Hector, having laid His hand upon the galley’s stern, held fast To the carved point, and called upon his men:—
“Bring fire, and press in throngs upon the foe; For now doth Jove vouchsafe to us a day Worth all the past—a day on which we make The ships our prey. Against the will of Heaven They landed on our coast, and brought on us Disasters many, through the coward fears Of our own elders, who denied my wish To combat at the galleys, and held back The people. But if then the Thunderer Darkened our minds, his spirit moves us now In what we do, and we obey his will.”
He spake; and they with fiercer valor fell Upon the Greeks. Even Ajax could no more Withstand the charge, but, fearing to be slain, Amid a storm of darts withdrew a space, To where the seven-foot bench of rowers lay, And left the galley’s stern. There, as he stood, He watched the assailants keenly, and beat back With thrusts of his long spear whoever brought The firebrand. With terrific shouts he called Upon the Greeks to combat manfully:—