Telamonides

Before the Argive ships great Ajax stands

By brother with the deadly, skillful eye.

He holds a mighty bulwark in his hands.

'Neath Teucer's arrows Trojan princes die.

Returning fire is caught on brother's shield,

And near enough to cut him none dare try

Since Ajax, as a fortress wall, won't yield,

He interposes self in brother's stead.

φιλία dominates the battlefield.

Teucer stands with eyes a weeping red

Against the men who once called brother friend

But would deny the honor due him dead.

No Trojan spear brought Ajax to his end.

No sword or arrow makes his brother mourn,

But unearned hate from those he'd once defend.

Now Teucer faces cruel Atreides' scorn,

Who to his brother proper tomb refuse,

Demands the Greeks a victor's grave adorn.

Though ages pass and memories diffuse,

Still brothers' love is honored by the Muse.