Then Hector laid his hand upon the stern Of a stanch galley, beautiful and swift, In which Protesilaüs came to Troy⁠— It never bore him back. Around its keel The Trojans and the Greeks fought hand to hand, And slew each other. For no more they sent The arrow or the javelin from afar, Waiting to see the wound it gave, but each With equal fury pressed upon his foe With halberd and with trenchant battle-axe, Huge sword and two-edged spear. Upon the ground Had fallen many a fair black-hilted sword With solid handles, some from slain men’s hands, Some from lopped arms of warriors; the dark earth Ran red with blood. But Hector, having laid His hand upon the galley’s stern, held fast To the carved point, and called upon his men:⁠—