Vanish from battle, but the evil day
Warded in stationary fight alone.
At him retiring, therefore, step by step
Deiphobus, who had with bitterest hate
Long time pursued him, hurl'd his splendid lance, 630
But yet again erroneous, for he pierced
Ascalaphus instead, offspring of Mars;
Right through his shoulder flew the spear; he fell
Incontinent, and dying, clench'd the dust.
But tidings none the brazen-throated Mars 635
Tempestuous yet received, that his own son
In bloody fight had fallen, for on the heights
Olympian over-arch'd with clouds of gold
He sat, where sat the other Powers divine,
Prisoners together of the will of Jove. 640
Meantime, for slain Ascalaphus arose
Conflict severe; Deiphobus his casque
Resplendent seized, but swift as fiery Mars
Assailing him, Meriones his arm
Pierced with a spear, and from his idle hand 645
Fallen, the casque sonorous struck the ground.
Again, as darts the vulture on his prey,
Meriones assailing him, the lance
Pluck'd from his arm, and to his band retired.
Then, casting his fraternal arms around 650
Deiphobus, him young Polites led
From the hoarse battle to his rapid steeds
And his bright chariot in the distant rear,
Which bore him back to Troy, languid and loud-
Groaning, and bleeding from his recent wound. 655
Still raged the war, and infinite arose
The clamor. Aphareus, Caletor's son,
Turning to face AEneas, in his throat
Instant the hero's pointed lance received.
With head reclined, and bearing to the ground 660
Buckler and helmet with him, in dark shades
Of soul-divorcing death involved, he fell.
Antilochus, observing Thooen turn'd
To flight, that moment pierced him; from his back
He ripp'd the vein which through the trunk its course 665
Winds upward to the neck; that vein he ripp'd
All forth; supine he fell, and with both hands
Extended to his fellow-warriors, died.
Forth sprang Antilochus to strip his arms,
But watch'd, meantime, the Trojans, who in crowds 670
Encircling him, his splendid buckler broad
Smote oft, but none with ruthless point prevail'd
Even to inscribe the skin of Nestor's son,
Whom Neptune, shaker of the shores, amid
Innumerable darts kept still secure. 675
Yet never