though eager to glut themselves with his flesh, stood fixed in the ground between, before they could reach his fair skin.
Whom when Eurypylus, the illustrious son of Evæmon, perceived pressed hard with many darts, advancing he stood beside him, and took aim with his shining spear; and smote Apisaon, son of Phausias, shepherd of the people, in the liver, under the diaphragm; and immediaely relaxed his limbs. And when godlike Alexander observed him stripping off the armor of Apisaon, he instantly bent his bow against Eurypylus, and smote him with an arrow upon the right thigh; and the reed was broken, and pained his thigh. Then he fell back into the column of his companions, avoiding fate, and shouting, he cried with a loud voice to the Greeks:
"O friends, leaders, and rulers over the Greeks, rallying, stand firm, and ward off the merciless day from Ajax, who is hard pressed with darts; nor do I think that he will escape from the dread-resounding battle. But by all means stand firm round mighty Ajax, the son of Telamon."
So spake the wounded Eurypylus, and they stood very near him, resting their shields upon their shoulders, and lifting up their spears. But Ajax came to meet them, and turning about, stood firm, when he reached the body of his comrades. Thus they indeed combated like blazing fire.
In the meantime the Neleian steeds, sweating, bore Nestor from the battle, and conveyed Machaon, the shepherd of the people. And noble Achilles, swift of foot, looking forth, beheld him; for he stood upon the prow of his great ship, gazing at the severe labor and lamentable rout. Straightway he addressed Patroclus, his companion, calling [to him] from the ship; and he, hearing him within the tent, came forth, like unto Mars: but it was the beginning of misfortune to him. Him first the gallant son of Menœtius addressed: "Why dost thou call me, Achilles, and what need hast thou of me?"
But him swift-footed Achilles answering, addressed: "Noble son of Menœtius, most dear to my soul, soon I think that the Greeks will stand round my knees entreating, for a necessity no longer tolerable invades them. But go now, Patroclus, dear to Jove, ask Nestor what man this is whom he is carrying wounded from the battle. Behind, indeed, he wholly resembles Machaon, the son of Æsculapius, but I have not
