Of Leucus, valiant warrior of the band
Led by Ulysses.  He the body dragg’d
Apart, but fell beside it, and let fall, 585
Breathless himself, the burthen from his hand. 
Then burn’d Ulysses’ wrath for Leucus slain,
And through the foremost combatants, array’d
In dazzling arms, he rush’d.  Full near he stood,
And, looking keen around him, hurl’d a lance. 590
Back fell the Trojans from before the face
Dispersed of great Ulysses.  Not in vain
His weapon flew, but on the field outstretch’d
A spurious son of Priam, from the shores
Call’d of Abydus famed for fleetest mares, 595
Democoon; him, for Leucus’ sake enraged,
Ulysses through both temples with his spear
Transpierced.  The night of death hung on his eyes,
And sounding on his batter’d arms he fell. 
Then Hector and the van of Troy retired; 600
Loud shout the Grecians; these draw off the dead,
Those onward march amain, and from the heights
Of Pergamus Apollo looking down
In anger, to the Trojans called aloud. 
Turn, turn, ye Trojans! face your Grecian foes. 605
They, like yourselves, are vulnerable flesh,
Not adamant or steel.  Your direst dread
Achilles, son of Thetis radiant-hair’d,
Fights not, but sullen in his fleet abides.[18]
Such from the citadel was heard the voice 610
Of dread Apollo.  But Minerva ranged
Meantime, Tritonian progeny of Jove,
The Grecians, rousing whom she saw remiss. 
Then Amarynceus’ son, Diores, felt
The force of fate, bruised by a rugged rock 615
At his right heel, which Pirus, Thracian Chief,
The son of Imbrasus of AEnos, threw. 
Bones and both tendons in its fall the mass
Enormous crush’d.  He, stretch’d in dust supine,
With palms outspread toward his warrior friends 620
Lay gasping life away.  But he who gave
The fatal blow, Pirus, advancing, urged
Into his navel a keen lance, and shed
His bowels forth; then, darkness veil’d his eyes. 
Nor Pirus long survived; him through the breast 625
Above the pap, AEtolian Thoas pierced,
And in his lungs set fast the quivering spear. 
Then Thoas swift approach’d, pluck’d from the wound
His stormy spear, and with his falchion bright
Gashing his middle belly, stretch’d him dead. 630
Yet stripp’d he not the slain, whom with long spears
His Thracians hairy-scalp’d[19] so round about
Encompassed, that though bold and large of limb
Were Thoas, from before them him they thrust
Staggering and reeling in his forced retreat. 635
They therefore in the dust, the Epean Chief
Diores, and the Thracian, Pirus lay
Stretch’d side by side, with numerous slain around. 
Then had Minerva led through all that field
Some warrior yet unhurt, him sheltering safe 640
From all annoyance dread of dart or spear,
No cause of blame in either had he found
That day, so many Greeks and Trojans press’d,
Extended side by side, the dusty plain.