Once more at Ajax Hector’s javelin flies; The Grecian marking, as it cut the skies, Shunn’d the descending death; which hissing on, Stretch’d in the dust the great Iphytus’ son, Schedius the brave, of all the Phocian kind The boldest warrior and the noblest mind: In little Panope, for strength renown’d, He held his seat, and ruled the realms around. Plunged in his throat, the weapon drank his blood, And deep transpiercing through the shoulder stood; In clanging arms the hero fell and all The fields resounded with his weighty fall.