Eurypylus, Evaemon’s noble son, Saw Ajax sorely pressed with many darts, And came and stood beside him, taking aim With his bright spear, and in the liver smote, Beneath the midriff, Apisaon, son Of Phausias, and a prince among his tribe. His knees gave way, and down he sank in death. But godlike Alexander, who beheld The slayer stripping Apisaon’s corpse Of armor, at that moment bent his bow, And pierced Eurypylus in the right thigh. The reed brake in the wound. He writhed with pain, And mingled with his fellows in the ranks, Avoiding death, yet shouting to the Greeks:⁠—

“O friends, the chiefs and leaders of the Greeks, Rally and keep your ground; ward off the fate Of death from Ajax, who is sorely pressed With darts, and, much I fear, may not escape Safe from this stormy conflict. Stand ye firm Around the mighty son of Telamon.”