Blunted with gore congealed no more could wound,

But brake the stricken limb; while every hand

Flung every quivering dart at him alone;

Nor missed their aim, for rang against his shield

Dart after dart unerring, and his helm

In broken fragments pressed upon his brow;

His vital parts were safeguarded by spears

That bristled in his body. Fortune saw

(Editor：meat)