He ceased, whom Oiliades the swift 310
  Hearing incontinent, of all the Chiefs
  Ran foremost, after whom Idomeneus
  Approach’d, and dread as homicidal Mars
  Meriones.  But never mind of man
  Could even in silent recollection name 315
  The whole vast multitude who, following these
  Renew’d the battle on the part of Greece. 
  The Trojans first, with Hector at their head,
  Wedged in close phalanx, rush’d to the assault
    As when within some rapid river’s mouth 320
  The billows and stream clash, on either shore[3]
  Loud sounds the roar[3] of waves ejected wide,
  Such seem’d the clamors of the Trojan host. 
  But the Achaians, one in heart, around
  Patroclus stood, bulwark’d with shields of brass 325
  And over all their glittering helmets Jove
  Darkness diffused, for he had loved Patroclus
  While yet he lived friend of AEacides,
  And now, abhorring that the dogs of Troy
  Should eat him, urged the Greeks to his defence, 330
  The host of Troy first shook the Grecian host;
  The body left, they fled; yet of them all,
  The Trojan powers, determined as they were,
  Slew none, but dragg’d the body.  Neither stood
  The Greeks long time aloof, soon as repulsed 335
  Again led on by Ajax, who in form
  And in exploits all others far excell’d. 
  Peerless AEacides alone except. 
  Right through the foremost combatants he rush’d,
  In force resembling most some savage boar 340
  That in the mountains bursting through the brakes,
  The swains disperses and their hounds with ease;
  Like him, illustrious Ajax, mighty son
  Of Telamon, at his assault dispersed
  With ease the close imbattled ranks who fought 345
  Around Patroclus’ body, strong in hope
  To achieve it, and to make the glory theirs. 
  Hippothoues, a youth of high renown,
  Son of Pelasgian Lethus, by a noose
  Around his ancle cast dragg’d through the fight 350
  Patroclus, so to gratify the host
  Of Ilium and their Chief; but evil him
  Reached suddenly, by none of all his friends
  (Though numerous wish’d to save him) turn’d aside. 
  For swift advancing on him through the crowd 355
  The son of Telamon pierced, spear in hand,
  His helmet brazen-cheek’d; the crested casque,
  So smitten, open’d wide, for huge the hand
  And ponderous was the spear that gave the blow
  And all around its neck, mingled with blood 360
  Gush’d forth the brain.  There, lifeless, down he sank,
  Let fall the hero’s foot, and fell himself
  Prone on the dead, never to see again? 
  Deep-soil’d Larissa, never to require
  Their kind solicitudes who gave him birth, 365