to eternal night; The rest, dispersing, trust their fates to flight. Now Troy had stoop'd beneath his matchless power, But flaming Phoebus kept the sacred tower Thrice at the battlements Patroclus strook;(246) His blazing aegis thrice Apollo shook; He tried the fourth; when, bursting from the cloud, A more than mortal voice was heard aloud. "Patroclus! cease; this heaven-defended wall Defies thy lance; not fated yet to fall; Thy friend, thy greater far, it shall withstand, Troy shall not stoop even to Achilles' hand." So spoke the god who darts celestial fires; The Greek obeys him, and with awe retires. While Hector, checking at the Scaean gates His panting coursers, in his breast debates, Or in the field his forces to employ, Or draw the troops within the walls of Troy. Thus while he thought, beside him Phoebus stood, In Asius' shape, who reigned by Sangar's flood; (Thy brother, Hecuba! from Dymas sprung, A valiant warrior, haughty, bold, and young;) Thus he accosts him. "What a shameful sight! God! is it Hector that forbears the fight? Were thine my vigour this successful spear Should soon convince thee of so false a fear. Turn thee, ah turn thee to the field of fame, And in Patroclus' blood efface thy shame. Perhaps Apollo shall thy arms succeed, And heaven ordains him by thy lance to bleed." So spoke the inspiring god; then took his flight, And plunged amidst the tumult of the fight. He bids Cebrion drive the rapid car; The lash resounds, the coursers rush to war. The god the Grecians' sinking souls depress'd, And pour'd swift spirits through each Trojan breast. Patroclus lights, impatient for the fight; A spear his left, a stone employs his right: With all his nerves he drives it at the foe. Pointed above, and rough and gross below: The falling ruin crush'd Cebrion's head, The lawless offspring of king Priam's bed; His front, brows, eyes, one undistinguish'd wound: The bu