observed these two steeds of Achilles proceeding through the battle with unskillful charioteers. I therefore may hope to capture them, if thou, at least, desire it in thy mind; for standing opposite, they will not dare to withstand us, rushing on to fight in battle."
Thus he spoke; nor did the brave son of Anchises disobey. Both advanced direct, covered as to their shoulders with bulls' hides, dry, thick; and upon them much brass was plated. But along with them went both Chromius and godlike Aretus: and their mind greatly hoped to slay them, and to drive away the long-necked steeds. Foolish,[1] for they were not destined to return back bloodlessly from Automedon, for he, having prayed to father Jove, was filled with fortitude and valor, as to his dark mind, and immediately addressed Alcimedon, his faithful comrade:
"O Alcimedon, do not now detain the steeds far from me; but [keep them] breathing closely at my back; for I do not think that Hector, the son of Priam, will abstain from violence, before that he has mounted the beautiful-maned horses of Achilles, having slain both of us, and put to rout the ranks of Grecian heroes; or himself be slain among the first."
Thus saying, he called upon the Ajaces, and Menelaus: "Ye Ajaces, leaders of the Greeks, and Menelaus, leave then the dead body to those, as many as are bravest, to defend it on all sides, and to repulse the ranks of men; but from us who are alive avert the merciless day. For hither violently rush through the lamentable fight Hector and Æneas, who are the best of the Trojans. But all these things rest upon the knees of the gods; for I also will hurl, and all these things will be a care to Jove."
He said; and, brandishing, hurled his long-shadowed spear and struck upon the shield of Aretus, equal on all sides; it however did not repel the spear, but the brass went entirely through, and passed through the belt into the bottom of his belly. And as when a man in youthful vigor, holding a sharp ax, cuts through the whole tendon, striking behind the horns of a wild bull; but it, leaping forward, falls; so he,
- ↑ Cf. Æn. x. 501, sqq. So Milton, Paradise Lost, ix. 404:
"O much deceived, much failing, hapless Eve,
Of thy presumed return! event perverse!"
