So spoke the god who darts celestial fires; The Greek obeys him, and with awe retires. While Hector, checking at the Scæan 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 Phœbus 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.”