Bold Paris first the work of death begun On great Menestheus, Areithous’ son, Sprung from the fair Philomeda’s embrace, The pleasing Arnè was his native place. Then sunk Eioneus to the shades below, Beneath his steely casque[177] he felt the blow Full on his neck, from Hector’s weighty hand; And roll’d, with limbs relax’d, along the land. By Glaucus’ spear the bold Iphinous bleeds, Fix’d in the shoulder as he mounts his steeds; Headlong he tumbles: his slack nerves unbound, Drop the cold useless members on the ground.