By sounding menaces, but press the foe; 330
  Exhort each other, and e’en now perchance
  Olympian Jove, by whom the lightnings burn,
  Shall grant us to repulse them, and to chase
  The routed Trojans to their gates again. 
    So they vociferating to the Greeks, 335
  Stirr’d them to battle.  As the feathery snows
  Fall frequent, on some wintry day, when Jove
  Hath risen to shed them on the race of man,
  And show his arrowy stores; he lulls the winds,
  Then shakes them down continual, covering thick 340
  Mountain tops, promontories, flowery meads,
  And cultured valleys rich; the ports and shores
  Receive it also of the hoary deep,
  But there the waves bound it, while all beside
  Lies whelm’d beneath Jove’s fast-descending shower, 345
  So thick, from side to side, by Trojans hurl’d
  Against the Greeks, and by the Greeks return’d
  The stony vollies flew; resounding loud
  Through all its length the battered rampart roar’d. 
  Nor yet had Hector and his host prevail’d 350
  To burst the gates, and break the massy bar,
  Had not all-seeing Jove Sarpedon moved
  His son, against the Greeks, furious as falls
  The lion on some horned herd of beeves. 
  At once his polish’d buckler he advanced 355
  With leafy brass o’erlaid; for with smooth brass
  The forger of that shield its oval disk
  Had plated, and with thickest hides throughout
  Had lined it, stitch’d with circling wires of gold. 
  That shield he bore before him; firmly grasp’d 360
  He shook two spears, and with determined strides
  March’d forward.  As the lion mountain-bred,
  After long fast, by impulse of his heart
  Undaunted urged, seeks resolute the flock
  Even in the shelter of their guarded home; 365
  He finds, perchance, the shepherds arm’d with spears,
  And all their dogs awake, yet can not leave
  Untried the fence, but either leaps it light,
  And entering tears the prey, or in the attempt
  Pierced by some dexterous peasant, bleeds himself; 370
  So high his courage to the assault impell’d
  Godlike Sarpedon, and him fired with hope
  To break the barrier; when to Glaucus thus,
  Son of Hippolochus, his speech he turn’d. 
    Why, Glaucus, is the seat of honor ours, 375
  Why drink we brimming cups, and feast in state? 
  Why gaze they all on us as we were Gods
  In Lycia, and why share we pleasant fields
  And spacious vineyards, where the Xanthus winds? 
  Distinguished thus in Lycia, we are call’d 380
  To firmness here, and to encounter bold
  The burning battle, that our fair report
  Among the Lycians may be blazon’d thus—­
  No dastards are the potentates who rule