“What god, Automedon, hath prompted thee To these mad acts, and stolen thy better sense, Fighting alone among the foremost ranks Of Trojan warriors, thy companion slain, And Hector in the field, who boastfully Stalks in the armor of Aeacides?”
And thus Automedon, Diores’ son, Made answer: “Who is there among the Greeks Able like thee, Alcimedon, to rein And curb the spirit of immortal steeds? None were there save Patroclus while he lived, Wise as a god in council. Death and fate Now hold him. To thy hand I give the lash And shining reins, while I descend and fight.”
He spake, and into his swift chariot sprang Alcimedon, and took the lash and reins. Automedon leaped down. As Hector saw, He thus bespake Aeneas at his side:—
“Aeneas, leader of the men of Troy, Equipped in brazen armor, I have seen Those coursers of the swift Aeacides Driven through the battle by unwarlike hands, And ’tis my hope, if thou wilt give thine aid, To seize them. They who guide them will not dare To stand and face us when we make the charge.”
He spake; Anchises’ valiant son complied, And, sheltered by their shields of tough ox-hide, Well dried and firm, and strong with plates of brass, The twain went forward. With them at their side Went Chromius and Aretus, nobly formed, In hope to lead away the high-necked steeds, Their guardians slain. Vain dreamers! They were doomed Not without bloody penance to return From that encounter with Automedon, Who prayed to Father Jove, and whose faint heart Was strengthened and made bold. And thus the chief Said to his faithful friend Alcimedon:—