Surmounting all impediment, escapes; 165
Such seem’d the valiant Diomede incensed
To fury, mingling with the host of Troy. 

    Astynoues and Hypenor first he slew;

One with his brazen lance above the pap
He pierced, and one with his huge falchion smote 170
Fast by the key-bone,[10] from the neck and spine
His parted shoulder driving at a blow. 

    Them leaving, Polyides next he sought

And Abas, sons of a dream-dealing seer,
Eurydamas; their hoary father’s dreams 175
Or not interpreted, or kept concealed,
Them saved not, for by Diomede they died. 
Xanthus and Thoeon he encounter’d next,
Both sons of Phaenops, sons of his old age,
Who other heir had none of all his wealth, 180
Nor hoped another, worn with many years. 
Tydides slew them both; nor aught remain’d
To the old man but sorrow for his sons
For ever lost, and strangers were his heirs. 
Two sons of Priam in one chariot borne 185
Echemon next, and Chromius felt his hand
Resistless.  As a lion on the herd
Leaping, while they the shrubs and bushes browse,
Breaks short the neck of heifer or of steer,
So them, though clinging fast and loth to fall, 190
Tydides hurl’d together to the ground,
Then stripp’d their splendid armor, and the steeds
Consigned and chariot to his soldiers’ care. 

    AEneas him discern’d scattering the ranks,

And through the battle and the clash of spears 195
Went seeking godlike Pandarus; ere long
Finding Lycaon’s martial son renown’d,
He stood before him, and him thus address’d. 

    Thy bow, thy feather’d shafts, and glorious name

Where are they, Pandarus? whom none of Troy 200
Could equal, whom of Lycia, none excel. 
Come.  Lift thine hands to Jove, and at yon Chief
Dispatch an arrow, who afflicts the host
Of Ilium thus, conquering where’er he flies,
And who hath slaughter’d numerous brave in arms, 205
But him some Deity I rather deem
Avenging on us his neglected rites,
And who can stand before an angry God? 

    Him answer’d then Lycaon’s son renown’d. 

Brave leader of the Trojans brazen-mail’d, 210
AEneas!  By his buckler which I know,
And by his helmet’s height, considering, too
His steeds, I deem him Diomede the bold;
Yet such pronounce him not, who seems a God. 
But if bold Diomede indeed he be 215
Of whom I speak, not without aid from heaven
His fury thus prevails, but at his side
Some God, in clouds enveloped, turns away
From him the arrow to a devious course. 
Already, at his shoulder’s hollow mail 220
My shaft hath pierced him through, and him I deem’d