"The son of Enops, Thestor next he smote. He in his chariot with his body bent Sat cow’ring low, a fear-distracted form, And from his palsied grasp the reins had fall’n. Then came Patroclus nigh, and through his cheek His teeth transpiercing, drew him by his lance Sheer o’er the chariot-front. As when a man On some projecting rock advanc’d, with line And splendid hook draws forth a sea-fish huge, So him wide-gaping from his seat he drew At his spear-point, then shook him to the ground Prone on his face, where gasping he expir’d."