“Where, Lycians, is your fiery valor now? Were I the bravest, it were hard, alone, For me to force a passage to the fleet, Though I have cleared the way. Come on with me! Light is the task when many share the toil.” He spake; and they who reverenced his words Of exhortation drew more closely round Their counsellor and sovereign, while the Greeks Above them made their phalanxes more strong Within the wall⁠—for urgent was the need; Since neither could the gallant Syrians break The barrier of the Greeks, and cut their way Through to the fleet, nor could the warlike Greeks Drive back the Lycians when they once had reached The rampart. As two men upon a field, With measuring-rods in hand, disputing stand Over the common boundary, in small space, Each one contending for the right he claims, So, kept asunder by the breastwork, fought The warriors over it, and fiercely struck The orbèd bull’s-hide shields held up before The breast, and the light targets. Many a one Was smitten when he turned and showed the back Unarmed, and many wounded through the shield.