Rhesus (795-880)

beneath the ribs. I felt the sword-thrust, the deep gaping wound it gave me. Down on my face I fell, while they fled clean away with horses and chariot. Oh, oh! Tortured with pain, too weak to stand, a piteous object!

I know what happened, for I saw it; but how the victims met their death I cannot say, nor at whose hand. But I can well surmise we have our friends to thank for this grief.

Charioteer of Thrace’s hapless king,

do not suspect us. Enemies did this. But Hector himself is here, having learned your mischance; he sympathizes as he should with your hard fate.

You who have caused this great calamity, how did the enemy’s spies come

without your knowledge, to your shame, and spread destruction through the army, and you did not drive them away either as they entered or left the camp? Who but you shall pay the penalty for this? You, I say, were here to guard the army. But they are gone without a wound, with many a scoff

at Phrygian cowardice, and at me their leader. Now mark you this—by father Zeus I swear—either the scourge or the headsman’s axe awaits you for such conduct; or else consider Hector to be nothing, a mere coward.