He spake: they drew the bolts and opened wide The gates, and gave a refuge to the host. Then leaped Apollo forth to meet their flight And rescue them. All faint with burning thirst, And grimed with dust, they hurried o’er the plain, And toward the city and its lofty walls, While eagerly Achilles on their track Pressed with his spear; his heart was full of rage, And all on fire his spirit with desire For glory. Then the Greeks had overthrown The towery Troy, if Phoebus had not moved Agenor, a young hero, nobly born, Blameless, and brave, Antenor’s son, to meet Achilles. Phoebus breathed into his heart Courage, as, standing by the youth, he leaned Against a beechen tree, and, wrapped from sight In darkness, watched to rescue him from death. Agenor stood as he beheld approach The mighty spoiler, and, perplexed in mind, Sighed heavily, and said to his great soul:⁠—