Should put to flight the Trojans and their chief, Hector the brazen-mailed, pursuing them Toward Troy with slaughter. To this end he sent Into the heart of Hector panic fear, Who climbed his car and fled, and bade the rest Flee also, for he saw how Jove had weighed The fortunes of the day. Now none remained, Not even the gallant Lycians, when they saw Their monarch lying wounded to the heart Among a heap of slain; for Saturn’s son In that day’s strife had caused a multitude To fall in death. Now when the Greeks had stripped Sarpedon of the glittering brazen mail, The brave son of Menoetius bade his friends Convey it to the hollow ships. Meanwhile The Cloud-compeller spake to Phoebus thus:⁠—