He spake, and all were resolute to beat The enemy back; and when, on either side, Trojans and Lycians, Myrmidons and Greeks, Had put their phalanxes in firm array, They closed, with dreadful shouts and horrid clash Of arms, in fight around the dead, while Jove Drew o’er that deadly fray an awful veil Of darkness, that the struggle for the corpse Of his dear son might rage more furiously. The Trojans first drave back the dark-eyed Greeks, For one was in the onset smitten down, Not the least valiant of the Myrmidons⁠— The son of brave Agacles, nobly born Epeigeus, who aforetime, when he ruled The populous Budeium, having slain A noble kinsman, fled a suppliant To Peleus and the silver-footed queen, Thetis, his consort, and by them was sent, With terrible Achilles, to the coast Of courser-breeding Ilium and the siege Of Troy. As now he stooped to seize the dead, Illustrious Hector smote him with a stone Upon the forehead, cleaving it in two In the strong helmet; headlong on the corse