But Ajax swift of foot, Oileus’ son, From him of Telamon departed not as Even for an instant. As when two black steers Of equal vigor o’er a fallow draw The strongly jointed plough, till near their horns Streams the warm sweat; the polished yoke alone Holds them asunder, as they move along The furrow, and the share divides the soil That lies between them;⁠—so the heroic twain Kept near each other. Many men and brave Followed to Troy the son of Telamon As his companions, and, when weariness Came o’er his sweaty limbs, relieved their chief Of his broad buckler. But the Locrian host Attended not Oileus’ great-souled son, Nor could they ever venture to engage In combat hand to hand. No brazen helms Were theirs, with horse-hair plumes, no orbèd shields, Nor ashen spears. They came with him to Troy, Trusting in their good bows, and in their slings Of twisted wool, from which they showered afar Stones that dispersed the phalanxes of Troy. The chieftains Ajax, warring in the van, Clad in their shining armor, fought to check