Of old Anchises, but with targets firm
  Of season’d hide brass-plated thrown athwart
  Their shoulders, both advanced direct, with whom
  Of godlike form Aretus also went
  And Chromius.  Ardent hope they all conceived 595
  To slay those Chiefs, and from the field to drive
  Achilles’ lofty steeds.  Vain hope! for them
  No bloodless strife awaited with the force
  Of brave Automedon; he, prayer to Jove
  First offering, felt his angry soul with might 600
  Heroic fill’d, and thus his faithful friend
  Alcimedon, incontinent, address’d. 
    Alcimedon! hold not the steeds remote
  But breathing on my back; for I expect
  That never Priameian Hector’s rage 605
  Shall limit know, or pause, till, slaying us,
  He shall himself the coursers ample-maned
  Mount of Achilles, and to flight compel
  The Argive host, or perish in the van. 
    So saying, he call’d aloud on Menelaus 610
  With either Ajax.  Oh, illustrious Chiefs
  Of Argos, Menelaus, and ye bold
  Ajaces![9] leaving all your best to cope
  With Ilium’s powers and to protect the dead,
  From friends still living ward the bitter day. 615
  For hither borne, two Chiefs, bravest of all
  The Trojans, Hector and AEneas rush
  Right through the battle.  The events of war
  Heaven orders; therefore even I will give
  My spear its flight, and Jove dispose the rest! 620
    He said, and brandishing his massy spear
  Dismiss’d it at Aretus; full he smote
  His ample shield, nor stay’d the pointed brass,
  But penetrating sheer the disk, his belt
  Pierced also, and stood planted in his waist. 625
  As when some vigorous youth with sharpen’d axe
  A pastured bullock smites behind the horns
  And hews the muscle through; he, at the stroke
  Springs forth and falls, so sprang Aretus forth,
  Then fell supine, and in his bowels stood 630
  The keen-edged lance still quivering till he died. 
  Then Hector, in return, his radiant spear
  Hurl’d at Automedon, who of its flight
  Forewarn’d his body bowing prone, the stroke
  Eluded, and the spear piercing the soil 635
  Behind him, shook to its superior end,
  Till, spent by slow degrees, its fury slept. 
  And now, with hand to hilt, for closer war
  Both stood prepared, when through the multitude
  Advancing at their fellow-warrior’s call, 640
  The Ajaces suddenly their combat fierce
  Prevented.  Awed at once by their approach
  Hector retired, with whom AEneas went
  Also and godlike Chromius, leaving there
  Aretus with his vitals torn, whose arms, 645
  Fierce as the God of war Automedon
  Stripp’d off, and thus exulted o’er