[the son of Cronus] gave you great honor, shining [your new victory?] like a torch among all Greeks. And a proud maiden [sings the praises of your strength?] often lightly springing with her feet like a carefree fawn on the flowery [hills] with her far-famed [companions] who live nearby. The maidens wear garlands of crimson blossoms and rushes, the native decoration, and sing of your [child], mistress of the all-hospitable [land], and of rosy-armed Endaïs, who bore [godlike Peleus] and the helmeted warrior Telamon, having gone to bed with Aeacus. Of their battle-rousing sons I shall sing, and of swift Achilles, and the high-spirited son of beautiful Eriboea, Aias, the shield-bearing hero, who stood on the stern of his ship and stopped bold-hearted, bronze [helmeted] Hector in his rush to burn the ships with dread fire, at the time when the son of Peleus stirred fierce wrath [in his breast] and released the [Dardanians from ruin]. Before they had not left the [many-towered] marvellous town of Ilium , but had cowered, dazed by fear, before the fierce battle, when Achilles raged destructively across the plain, shaking his murderous spear. But when the fearless son of the violet-garlanded Nereid withdrew from battle, —as when the North wind, on the dark-blossoming sea, afflicts the spirits of men beneath the waves, when it comes upon them as night begins, but it withdraws with the break of Dawn, who shines on mortals, and a gentle breeze smooths the sea; they billow their sail with the breath of the South wind, and eagerly reach unhoped-for dry land— in such a way, when the Trojans heard that the spearman Achilles