Such contest hath arisen; thy servant’s voice
Must soothe thee now, for I will to the tent
Haste of Achilles, and exhort him forth; 495
Who knows? if such the pleasure of the Gods,
I may prevail; friends rarely plead in vain. 

    So saying, he went.  Meantime the Greeks endured

The Trojan onset, firm, yet from the ships
Repulsed them not, though fewer than themselves, 500
Nor could the host of Troy, breaking the ranks
Of Greece, mix either with the camp or fleet;
But as the line divides the plank aright,
Stretch’d by some naval architect, whose hand
Minerva hath accomplish’d in his art, 505
So stretch’d on them the cord of battle lay. 
Others at other ships the conflict waged,
But Hector to the ship advanced direct
Of glorious Ajax; for one ship they strove;
Nor Hector, him dislodging thence, could fire 510
The fleet, nor Ajax from the fleet repulse
Hector, conducted thither by the Gods. 
Then, noble Ajax with a spear the breast
Pierced of Caletor, son of Clytius, arm’d
With fire to burn his bark; sounding he fell, 515
And from his loosen’d grasp down dropp’d the brand. 
But Hector seeing his own kinsman fallen
Beneath the sable bark, with mighty voice
Call’d on the hosts of Lycia and of Troy. 

    Trojans and Lycians, and close-fighting sons 520

Of Dardanus, within this narrow pass
Stand firm, retreat not, but redeem the son
Of Clytius, lest the Grecians of his arms
Despoil him slain in battle at the ships. 

    So saying, at Ajax his bright spear he cast 525

Him pierced he not, but Lycophron the son
Of Mastor, a Cytherian, who had left
Cytheras, fugitive for blood, and dwelt
With Ajax.  Him standing at Ajax’ side,
He pierced above his ear; down from the stern 530
Supine he fell, and in the dust expired. 
Then, shuddering, Ajax to his brother spake. 

    Alas, my Teucer! we have lost our friend;

Mastorides is slain, whom we received
An inmate from Cytherae, and with love 535
And reverence even filial, entertain’d;
By Hector pierced, he dies.  Where are thy shafts
Death-wing’d, and bow, by gift from Phoebus thine? 

    He said, whom Teucer hearing, instant ran

With bow and well-stored quiver to his side, 540
Whence soon his arrows sought the Trojan host. 
He struck Pisenor’s son Clytus, the friend
And charioteer of brave Polydamas,
Offspring of Panthus, toiling with both hands
To rule his fiery steeds; for more to please 545
The Trojans and their Chief, where stormy most
He saw the battle, thither he had driven. 
But sudden mischief, valiant as he was,
Found him, and such as none could waft aside,