Therefore did Jove the All-disposer wait Till from a burning galley he should see The flames arise. Then must the Trojan host⁠— Such was his will⁠—retreating from the fleet, Yield to the Greeks the glory of the day. For this he moved the already eager heart Of Hector, son of Priam, to attack The roomy ships. The hero was aroused To fury fierce as Mars when brandishing His spear, or as a desolating flame That rages on a mountain-side among The thickets of a close-grown wood. His lips Were white with foam; his eyes from underneath His frowning brows streamed fire; and as he fought, Upon the hero’s temples fearfully The helmet nodded. Jupiter himself Sent aid from his high seat, and heaped on him Honor and fame beyond the other chiefs⁠— And they were many⁠—for his term of life Was to be short. Minerva even now Was planning to bring on its closing day, Made fatal by the might of Peleus’ son. And now he strove to break the Grecian ranks, Assaulting where he saw the thickest crowd