Then had the Greeks eternal praise acquired, And Troy inglorious to her walls retired; But he, the god who darts ethereal flame, Shot down to save her, and redeem her fame: To young Agenor force divine he gave; (Antenor’s offspring, haughty, bold, and brave;) In aid of him, beside the beech he sate, And wrapt in clouds, restrain’d the hand of fate. When now the generous youth Achilles spies, Thick beats his heart, the troubled motions rise. (So, ere a storm, the waters heave and roll.) He stops, and questions thus his mighty soul;