burn'd in that undaunted breast!" Thus having spoke, Apollo wing'd his flight, And mix'd with mortals in the toils of fight: His words infix'd unutterable care Deep in great Hector's soul: through all the war He darts his anxious eye; and, instant, view'd The breathless hero in his blood imbued, (Forth welling from the wound, as prone he lay) And in the victor's hands the shining prey. Sheath'd in bright arms, through cleaving ranks he flies, And sends his voice in thunder to the skies: Fierce as a flood of flame by Vulcan sent, It flew, and fired the nations as it went. Atrides from the voice the storm divined, And thus explored his own unconquer'd mind: "Then shall I quit Patroclus on the plain, Slain in my cause, and for my honour slain! Desert the arms, the relics, of my friend? Or singly, Hector and his troops attend? Sure where such partial favour heaven bestow'd, To brave the hero were to brave the god: Forgive me, Greece, if once I quit the field; 'Tis not to Hector, but to heaven I yield. Yet, nor the god, nor heaven, should give me fear, Did but the voice of Ajax reach my ear: Still would we turn, still battle on the plains, And give Achilles all that yet remains Of his and our Patroclus--" This, no more The time allow'd: Troy thicken'd on the shore. A sable scene! The terrors Hector led. Slow he recedes, and sighing quits the dead. So from the fold the unwilling lion parts, Forced by loud clamours, and a storm of darts; He flies indeed, but threatens as he flies, With heart indignant and retorted eyes. Now enter'd in the Spartan ranks, he turn'd His manly breast, and with new fury burn'd; O'er all the black battalions sent his view, And through the cloud the godlike Ajax knew; Where labouring on the left the warrior stood, All grim in arms, and cover'd o'er with blood; There breathing courage, where the god of day Had sunk each heart with terror and dismay. To him t