sulphur rise; Stiff with amaze the pale beholders stand, And own the terrors of the almighty hand! So lies great Hector prostrate on the shore; His slacken'd hand deserts the lance it bore; His following shield the fallen chief o'erspread; Beneath his helmet dropp'd his fainting head; His load of armour, sinking to the ground, Clanks on the field, a dead and hollow sound. Loud shouts of triumph fill the crowded plain; Greece sees, in hope, Troy's great defender slain: All spring to seize him; storms of arrows fly, And thicker javelins intercept the sky. In vain an iron tempest hisses round; He lies protected, and without a wound.(238) Polydamas, Agenor the divine, The pious warrior of Anchises' line, And each bold leader of the Lycian band, With covering shields (a friendly circle) stand, His mournful followers, with assistant care, The groaning hero to his chariot bear; His foaming coursers, swifter than the wind, Speed to the town, and leave the war behind. When now they touch'd the mead's enamell'd side, Where gentle Xanthus rolls his easy tide, With watery drops the chief they sprinkle round, Placed on the margin of the flowery ground. Raised on his knees, he now ejects the gore; Now faints anew, low-sinking on the shore; By fits he breathes, half views the fleeting skies, And seals again, by fits, his swimming eyes. Soon as the Greeks the chief's retreat beheld, With double fury each invades the field. Oilean Ajax first his javelin sped, Pierced by whose point the son of Enops bled; (Satnius the brave, whom beauteous Neis bore Amidst her flocks on Satnio's silver shore;) Struck through the belly's rim, the warrior lies Supine, and shades eternal veil his eyes. An arduous battle rose around the dead; By turns the Greeks, by turns the Trojans bled. Fired with revenge, Polydamas drew near, And at Prothoenor shook the trembling spear; The driving javelin through his shoulder t