Thy bow and arrows should avail thee nought. 
Vain boaster! thou hast scratch’d my foot—­no more—­
And I regard it as I might the stroke
Of a weak woman or a simple child. 
The weapons of a dastard and a slave 475
Are ever such.  More terrible are mine,
And whom they pierce, though slightly pierced, he dies. 
His wife her cheeks rends inconsolable,
His babes are fatherless, his blood the glebe
Incarnadines, and where he bleeds and rots 480
More birds of prey than women haunt the place. 

    He ended, and Ulysses, drawing nigh,

Shelter’d Tydides; he behind the Chief
Of Ithaca sat drawing forth the shaft,
But pierced with agonizing pangs the while. 485
Then, climbing to his chariot-seat, he bade
Sthenelus hasten to the hollow ships,
Heart-sick with pain.  And now alone was seen
Spear-famed Ulysses; not an Argive more
Remain’d, so universal was the rout, 490
And groaning, to his own great heart he said. 

    Alas! what now awaits me?  If, appall’d

By multitudes, I fly, much detriment;
And if alone they intercept me here,
Still more; for Jove hath scatter’d all the host, 495
Yet why these doubts! for know I not of old
That only dastards fly, and that the voice
Of honor bids the famed in battle stand,
Bleed they themselves, or cause their foes to bleed? 

    While busied in such thought he stood, the ranks 500

Of Trojans fronted with broad shields, enclosed
The hero with a ring, hemming around
Their own destruction.  As when dogs, and swains
In prime of manhood, from all quarters rush
Around a boar, he from his thicket bolts, 505
The bright tusk whetting in his crooked jaws: 
They press him on all sides, and from beneath
Loud gnashings hear, yet firm, his threats defy;
Like them the Trojans on all sides assail’d
Ulysses dear to Jove.  First with his spear 510
He sprang impetuous on a valiant chief,
Whose shoulder with a downright point he pierced,
Deiopites; Thooen next he slew,
And Ennomus, and from his coursers’ backs
Alighting quick, Chersidamas; beneath 515
His bossy shield the gliding weapon pass’d
Right through his navel; on the plain he fell
Expiring, and with both hands clench’d the dust. 
Them slain he left, and Charops wounded next,
Brother of Socus, generous Chief, and son 520
Of Hippasus; brave Socus to the aid
Of Charops flew, and, godlike, thus began. 

    Illustrious chief, Ulysses! strong to toil

And rich in artifice!  Or boast to-day
Two sons of Hippasus, brave warriors both, 525
Of armor and of life bereft by thee,
Or to my vengeful spear resign thy own!