Between the shoulder-bones his spear infixt,
And urged it through his breast.  Sounding he fell,
And loud his batter’d armor rang around. 

    By brave Idomeneus a Lydian died,

Phaestus, from fruitful Tarne sent to Troy, 55
Son of Maeonian Borus; him his steeds
Mounting, Idomeneus the spear-renown’d
Through his right shoulder pierced; unwelcome night
Involved him; from his chariot down he fell,[4]
And the attendant Cretans stripp’d his arms. 60

    But Menelaus, son of Atreus slew

With his bright spear Scamandrius, Stropius’ son,
A skilful hunter; for Diana him,
Herself, the slaughter of all savage kinds
Had taught, on mountain or in forest bred. 65
But she, shaft-aiming Goddess, in that hour
Avail’d him not, nor his own matchless skill;
For Menelaus, Atreus son spear-famed,
Him flying wounded in the spine between
His shoulders, and the spear urged through his breast. 70
Prone on his loud-resounding arms he fell. 

    Next, by Meriones, Phereclus died,

Son of Harmonides.  All arts that ask
A well-instructed hand his sire had learn’d,
For Pallas dearly loved him.  He the fleet, 75
Prime source of harm to Troy and to himself,
For Paris built, unskill’d to spell aright
The oracles predictive of the wo. 
Phereclus fled; Meriones his flight
Outstripping, deep in his posterior flesh 80
A spear infix’d; sliding beneath the bone
It grazed his bladder as it pass’d, and stood
Protruded far before.  Low on his knees
Phereclus sank, and with a shriek expired. 
Pedaeus, whom, although his spurious son, 85
Antenor’s wife, to gratify her lord,
Had cherish’d as her own—­him Meges slew. 
Warlike Phylides[5] following close his flight,
His keen lance drove into his poll, cut sheer
His tongue within, and through his mouth enforced 90
The glittering point.  He, prostrate in the dust,
The cold steel press’d between his teeth and died. 

    Eurypylus, Evemon’s son, the brave

Hypsenor slew; Dolopion was his sire,
Priest of Scamander, reverenced as a God. 95
In vain before Eurypylus he fled;
He, running, with his falchion lopp’d his arm
Fast by the shoulder; on the field his hand
Fell blood-distained, and destiny severe
With shades of death for ever veil’d his eyes. 100

    Thus strenuous they the toilsome battle waged. 

But where Tydides fought, whether in aid
Of Ilium’s host, or on the part of Greece,
Might none discern.  For as a winter-flood
Impetuous, mounds and bridges sweeps away;[6] 105
The buttress’d bridge checks not its sudden force,
The firm inclosure of vine-planted fields
Luxuriant, falls before it; finish’d works