“Hear, men of Troy and Lycia, and ye sons Of Dardanus, who combat hand to hand, Stand firm, and never yield this narrow ground. Rescue the son of Clytius, who has fallen Before the ships, nor let the Achaians make His arms their spoil.” The hero spake, and aimed His shining spear at Ajax, whom it missed, But smote Lycophron, Master’s son, who served Ajax, and dwelt with him, for he had left His native land, Cythera, having slain One of the gallant Cytherean race. Him Hector smote upon the head beneath The ear with his keen weapon, as he stood Near Ajax; from the galley’s stern he fell Headlong upon the ground, with lifeless limbs. Then to his brother Teucer Ajax spake:⁠—

“Dear Teucer, see, our faithful friend is gone, The son of Mastor, from Cythera’s isle, Whom we had learned to honor equally With our own parents in our palaces. He falls before the great-souled Hector’s hand. Where, then, are now thy shafts that carry death, And where the bow that Phoebus gave to thee?”