"Glory of Greece, old Neleus' valiant son! Ascend thy chariot, haste with speed away, And great Machaon to the ships convey; A wise physician skill'd our wounds to heal, Is more than armies to the public weal." Old Nestor mounts the seat; beside him rode The wounded offspring of the healing god. He lends the lash; the steeds with sounding feet Shake the dry field, and thunder toward the fleet. But now Cebriones, from Hector's car, Survey'd the various fortune of the war: "While here (he cried) the flying Greeks are slain, Trojans on Trojans yonder load the plain. Before great Ajax see the mingled throng Of men and chariots driven in heaps along! I know him well, distinguish'd o'er the field By the broad glittering of the sevenfold shield. Thither, O Hector, thither urge thy steeds, There danger calls, and there the combat bleeds; There horse and foot in mingled deaths unite, And groans of slaughter mix with shouts of fight." Thus having spoke, the driver's lash resounds; Swift through the ranks the rapid chariot bounds; Stung by the stroke, the coursers scour the fields, O'er heaps of carcases, and hills of shields. The horses' hoofs are bathed in heroes' gore, And, dashing, purple all the car before; The groaning axle sable drops distils, And mangled carnage clogs the rapid wheels. Here Hector, plunging through the thickest fight, Broke the dark phalanx, and let in the light: (By the long lance, the sword, or ponderous stone. The ranks he scatter'd and the troops o'erthrown:) Ajax he shuns, through all the dire debate, And fears that arm whose force he felt so late. But partial Jove, espousing Hector's part, Shot heaven-bred horror through the Grecian's heart; Confused, unnerved in Hector's presence grown, Amazed he stood, with terrors not his own. O'er his broad back his moony shield he threw, And, glaring round, by tardy steps withdrew. Thus the grim lion his retreat maintains,