Book XVI

that hour Had dust defiled its horse-hair plume; for once That helmet guarded an illustrious head, The glorious brows of Peleus’ son, and now Jove destined it for Hector, to be worn In battle; and his death was also near. The spear Patroclus wielded, edged with brass, Long, tough, and huge, was broken in his hands, And his broad buckler, dropping with its band, Lay on the ground, while Phoebus, son of Jove, Undid the fastenings of his mail. With mind Bewildered, and with powerless limbs, he stood As thunderstruck. Then a Dardanian named Euphorbus, son of Panthoüs, who excelled His comrades in the wielding of the spear, The race, and horsemanship, approaching, smote Patroclus in the back with his keen spear, Between the shoulder-blades. Already he Had dashed down twenty warriors from their cars, Guiding his own, a learner in the art Of war. The first was he who threw a lance At thee, Patroclus, yet o’ercome thee not; For, plucking from thy back its ashen stem, He fled, and mingled with the crowd, nor dared Await thy coming, though thou wert unarmed, While, weakened by that wound and by the blow Given by the god, Patroclus turned and sought Shelter from danger in the Grecian ranks; But Hector, when he saw the gallant Greek Thus wounded and retreating, left his place Among the squadrons, and, advancing, pierced Patroclus with his spear, below the belt, Driving the weapon deep. The hero fell With clashing mail, and all the Greeks beheld His fall with grief. As when a lion bears A stubborn boar to earth, what time the twain Fight on the mountains for a slender spring, Both thirsty and both fierce, the lion’s strength Lays prone his panting foe, so Priam’s son Slew, fighting hand to hand, the valiant Greek, Son of Menoetius, who himself had slain So many. Hector gloried over him With wingèd words: “Patroclus, thou didst think To lay our city waste, and carry off Our women captive in thy ships to Greece. Madman! In their defence the fiery steeds Of Hector sweep the battle-field, and I, Mightiest of all the Trojans, with the spear Will guard them from the doom of slavery. Now vultures shall devour thee, wretched youth! Achilles, mighty though he be, has brought No help to thee, though doubtless when he sent Thee