ll back upon the ground, and dark night
overshadowed his eyes; for the blow still subdued his spirits.

But when the Greeks saw Hector going apart, they pressed the more on the
Trojans, and were mindful of contest. Then swift Oilean Ajax before
others, leaping forward with his fir-tree spear, wounded Satnius, son of
Enops, whom a Naiad, the fairest nymph, bore to Enops, when keeping his
flocks by the banks of Satnio. Him the spear-renowned son of Oileus,
drawing near, wounded in the flank; but he fell supine, and round him
the Trojans and Greeks engaged in a valiant battle. But to him
spear-brandishing Polydamas, son of Panthous, came as an avenger, and
smote Prothoenor, son of Areilochus, upon the right shoulder. The tough
spear passed on through his shoulder, but falling in the dust, he
grasped the earth with his hand. And Polydamas boasted mightily over
him, shouting aloud:

"I do not think, indeed, that the weapon hath fled vainly from the
sturdy hand of the magnanimous son of Panthous, but some one of the
Greeks has received it in his body; and I think that he, leaning upon
it, will descend to the mansion of Pluto."

Thus he spoke, but grief arose among the Greeks at his boasting, and
particularly agitated the mind of warlike Ajax, the son of Telamon, for
he had fallen very near him; and he immediately hurled with his shining
spear at him departing. Polydamas himself indeed avoided black fate,
springing off obliquely; but Archilochus, son of Antenor, received [the
blow], for to him the gods had doomed destruction. Him then he struck
upon the last vertebra, in the joining of the head and neck, and he
disjoined both tendons; but the head, the mouth, and the nostrils of him
falling, met the ground much sooner than his legs and knees. Then Ajax
in turn cried out to blameless Polydamas:

"Reflect, O Polydamas, and tell me the truth; is not this man worthy to
be slain in exchange of Prothoenor? He appears not to me indeed a
coward, nor [sprung] from cowards, but [to be] the brother or the son of
horse-breaking Antenor, for he seems most like him as to his race."

Thus he spoke, well knowing [him], but grief possessed the minds of the
Trojans. Then Acamas, stalking round his brother, wounded with his spear
Promachus, the Boeotian; whilst he was dragging him off by the feet. But
over him Acamas greatly boasted, calling out aloud:

"Ye Argive archers,[482] insatiable in threats, assuredly not to us
alone will toil and