He spake; Anchises’ valiant son complied, And, sheltered by their shields of tough ox-hide, Well dried and firm, and strong with plates of brass, The twain went forward. With them at their side Went Chromius and Aretus, nobly formed, In hope to lead away the high-necked steeds, Their guardians slain. Vain dreamers! They were doomed Not without bloody penance to return From that encounter with Automedon, Who prayed to Father Jove, and whose faint heart Was strengthened and made bold. And thus the chief Said to his faithful friend Alcimedon:⁠—

“Keep not the steeds thou guidest far from me, Alcimedon, but let them ever breathe Upon my shoulders. Hector, Priam’s son, I think, will not give over this assault Before he either slays us, and ascends The car to which these steeds with flowing manes Are yoked, and puts to flight the phalanxes Of Argive warriors, or himself is slain.”