Then with a look of anger, Glaucus spake⁠— Son of Hippolochus, and chief among The Lycians⁠—thus to Hector: “Though thy form, Hector, be noble, yet in prowess thou Art wanting, and thy fame in feats of war Is not deserved, since thou dost fly the foe. Think whether thou alone, with others born In Troy, canst save the city and the state. For henceforth will no Lycian fight for Troy Against the Greeks; this conflict without end Has never earned them thanks. Inglorious chief! How wilt thou be the shield of humbler men, If thou canst leave Sarpedon, who has been Thy comrade and thy guest, to be the prey And spoil of the Greek warriors? While he lived, Great was the aid he brought thy cause and thee, And now thou dost not seek to drive away The dogs from his neglected corpse. For this, If any of the Lycians heed my words, They will go home, and imminent will be The ruin of thy city. If that firm And resolute valor lived in Trojan hearts Which they should cherish who in the defence Of their own country bear the toils and face