The Achaeans took heart as Hector was carried away. They pushed from the ships over the ditch, and the Trojans stumbled back in disorder. Poseidon kept moving among the Argives, making each man's knees light and his hands eager for the spear.
The battle rolled over the plain with killing on both sides. Men died for fallen friends, and armor changed hands in the dust. Every small gain was paid for, shield against shield and spear against spear, while the gods' hidden quarrel drove mortal bodies into the bronze.
Hector's companions laid him by the river and tried to revive him, but the breath in him came hard. Behind him the Trojan line missed his voice. Without Hector pressing in front, their courage loosened, and the Argives felt daylight return to them.
Poseidon urged the Danaans not to stop at the ditch. A man who saves only his own life wins no glory; a man who stands for the ships saves all. The fighters answered with a shout and went on, trampling broken shields, shattered spear shafts, and bodies stripped of armor.
Yet the Trojans did not run all the way to the city. Their best men held knots of resistance around the chariots, ashamed before one another and before the women of Troy. They gave ground fighting, and the field between wall and river filled with cries.