“O friends, Achaian heroes, ministers Of Mars, be men, be mindful of your fame For valor. Do ye dream that in your rear Are succors waiting us, or firmer walls That may protect us yet? Nay, no fenced town Have we for refuge, flanked with towers from which Fresh troops may take our place. Between the sea And country of the well-armed Trojans lie Our tents; our native land is far away; And now our only hope of safety left Is in our weapons: there is no retreat.”
He spake, and mightily with his sharp spear Thrust at whoever of the men of Troy At Hector’s bidding came with fire to burn The galleys. On the blade of that long spear The hero took them as they came, and slew In close encounter twelve before the fleet.