Drave with the chariot to the well-armed Greeks. Deïphobus, who sorrowed for the fate Of Asius, drawing near Idomeneus, Hurled at him his bright spear. The Greek beheld, As face to face they stood, and scaped the stroke, Covered by his round shield, two-handled, strong, With bullocks’ hides and glittering brass. With this He hid himself, close couched within, and turned The brazen point aside. The buckler rang Shrilly; the weapon glanced away, yet flew Not vainly from the Trojan’s powerful hand: It struck Hypsenor, son of Hippasus, The shepherd of the people, on the side Where lies the liver, just below the breast. His knees gave way; he fell; Deïphobus Thus shouted o’er the dead his empty boast:⁠—

“Not unavenged lies Asius, and no doubt, In journeying to the massy gates and wall Of Hades, will rejoice that I have sent A soul to be companion of his way.”