Book XX

The Battle of the Gods


Permission given by Jupiter to the gods to take part in the war⁠—The combat renewed with great violence and tumult⁠—Aeneas, encountering Achilles, to which he is encouraged by Apollo, is only preserved from death by the interposition of Neptune⁠—Slaughter of the Trojans by Achilles⁠—Hector, when in danger of being slain, snatched from the presence of Achilles by Phoebus in a cloud⁠—Havoc made by Achilles in the Trojan army.


Thus, O Pelides, did the sons of Greece,

Impatient for the battle, arm themselves,

By their beaked ships, around thee. Opposite,

Upon a height that rose amidst the plain,

The Trojans waited. Meantime Jupiter

Sent Themis from the Olympian summit, ploughed

With dells, to summon all the immortal ones

To council. Forth she went from place to place,

Bidding them to the palace halls of Jove.

Then none of all the Rivers failed to join

The assembly, save Oceanus, and none

Of all the Nymphs were absent whose abode

Is in the pleasant groves and river-founts

And grassy meadows. When they reached the halls

Of cloud-compelling Jove they sat them down

On shining thrones, divided each from each

By polished columns, wrought for Father Jove

By Vulcan’s skill. Thus all to Jove’s abode

Were gathered. Neptune had not disobeyed

The call. He left the sea, and took his seat

Among them, and inquired the will of Jove.


“Why, wielder of the lightning, dost thou call

The gods again to council? Do thy plans

Concern the Greeks and Trojans? For the war

Between their hosts will be rekindled soon.”


And thus the Cloud-compeller Jove replied:

“Thou who dost shake the shores, thou knowest well

The purpose of my mind, and for whose sake

I call this council. Though so soon to die,

They are my care. Yet will I keep my place,

Seated upon the Olympian mount, and look

Calmly upon the conflict. All of you

Depart, and aid the Trojans or the Greeks,

As it may list you. For should Peleus’ son

Alone do battle with the men of Troy,

Their squadrons could not stand before the assault

Of the swift-footed warrior for an hour.

Beforetime, at the sight of him they fled,

O’ercome with fear, and now, when he is roused

To rage by his companion’s death, I fear

Lest, though it be against the will of fate,

He level with the ground the walls of Troy.”


Saturnius spake, and moved the hosts to join

In desperate conflict. All the gods went forth

To mingle with the war on different sides.

Juno and Pallas hastened to the fleet

With Neptune, he who makes the earth to shake,

And Hermes, god of useful arts, and shrewd

In forecast. Vulcan also went with them,

Strong and stern-eyed, yet lame, his feeble legs

Moving with labor. To the Trojan side

Went crested Mars, Apollo with his locks

Unshorn, Diana mighty with the bow,

Latona, Xanthus, and the queen of smiles,

Venus; for while the gods remained apart

From men, the Achaian host was high in hope

Because Achilles, who so long had left

The war, now reappeared upon the field,

And terror shook the limbs of every son

Of Troy when he beheld the swift of foot,

Pelides, terrible as Mars⁠—that curse

Of human-kind⁠—in glittering arms again.

But when the dwellers of Olympus joined

The crowd of mortals, Discord, who makes mad

The nations, rose and raged; Minerva raised

Her war-cry from the trench without the wall,

And then she shouted from the sounding shore;

While, like a cloudy whirlwind, opposite,

Moved Mars, and fiercely yelled, encouraging

The men of Troy, as on the city heights

He stood, or paced with rapid steps the hill

Beside the Simoïs, called the Beautiful.


Thus, kindling hate between the hosts, the gods

Engaged, and hideous was the strife that rose

Among them. From above, with terrible crash,

Thundered the father of the blessed gods

And mortal men, while Neptune from below

Shook the great earth and lofty mountain peaks.

Then watery Ida’s heights and very roots,

The city of Troy, and the Greek galleys, quaked.

Then Pluto, ruler of the nether world,

Leaped from his throne in terror, lest the god

Who makes the earth to tremble, cleaving it

Above him, should lay bare to gods and men

His horrible abodes, the dismal haunts

Which even the gods abhor. Such tumult filled

The field of battle when the immortals joined

The conflict. Then against King Neptune stood

Phoebus Apollo, with his wingèd shafts,

And Pallas, goddess of the azure eyes,

Confronted Mars. Encountering Juno came

The sister of Apollo, archer-queen

And huntress, Dian of the golden bow.

The helpful Hermes, god of useful arts,

Opposed Latona, and the mighty stream

Called Xanthus by the immortals, but by men

Scamander, with his eddies strong and deep,

Stood face to face with Vulcan in the field.


So warred the gods with gods. Meantime the son

Of Peleus, ranging through the thick of fight,

Sought only Hector, Priam’s son, whose blood

He meant to pour to greedy Mars, the god

Of carnage. But Apollo, who impels

Warriors to battle, stirred Aeneas up

To meet Pelides. First he filled his heart

With resolute valor, and then took the voice

Of Priam’s son, Lycaon. In his shape

Thus spake Apollo, son of Jupiter:⁠—


“Aeneas, prince of Troy, where now are all

The boasts which thou hast made before the chiefs

Of Troy at banquets, that thou yet wouldst meet

Pelides in the combat hand to hand?”


Aeneas made reply: “Priamides,

Why dost thou bid me, when thou knowest me

Unwilling, meet in combat Peleus’ son,

The mighty among men? It will not be

For the first time if I confront him now.

He chased me once from Ida with his spear⁠—

Me and my fellows, when he took our herds

And laid Lyrnessus waste and Pedasus.

But Jove, who gave me strength and nimble feet,

Preserved me; I had else been slain by him

And by Minerva, for the goddess went

Before him, giving him the victory

And moving him to slay the Leleges

And Trojans with the brazen spear he bore.

’Tis not for mortal man to fight the son

Of Peleus, at whose side there ever stands

One of the immortal gods, averting harm.

And then his weapon flies right on, nor stops

Until it bites the flesh. Yet were the god

To weigh the victory in an equal scale,

Achilles would not vanquish me with ease,

Though he might boast his frame were all of brass.”


Then spake the king Apollo, son of Jove:

“Pray, warrior, to the eternal gods. They say

That Venus gave thee birth, who has her own

From Jove. His mother is of lower rank

Than thine. Thine is a child of Jove, but his

A daughter of the Ancient of the Deep.

Strike at him with that conquering spear of thine,

Nor let him scare thee with stern words and threats.”


He said, and breathed into the prince’s breast

Fresh valor, as, arrayed in glittering arms,

He pressed to where the foremost warriors fought;

Yet not unseen by Juno’s eye went forth

The son of old Anchises. She convened

The gods in council, and addressed them thus:⁠—

“Neptune and Pallas, what shall now be done?

Consider ye. Aeneas, all arrayed

In glittering arms, is pressing on to meet

Pelides. Phoebus sends him. Let us join

To turn him back, or let some one of us

Stand near Achilles, fill his limbs with strength,

Nor let his heart grow faint, but let him see

That we, the mightiest of the immortals, look

On him with favor, and that those who strive

Amid the war and bloodshed to protect

The sons of Troy are empty boasters all.

For this we came from heaven to interpose

In battle, that Achilles may endure

No harm from Trojan hands, although, no doubt,

Hereafter he must suffer all that Fate

Spun for him when his mother brought him forth.

But if he hear not, from some heavenly voice,

Of this assurance, fear may fall on him

When, haply, in the battle he shall meet

Some god; for when revealed to human sight

The presence of the gods is terrible.”


And then did Neptune, he who shakes the earth,

Make answer: “Juno, it becomes thee ill

To be so greatly vexed. I cannot wish

A contest with the other gods, though we

In power excel them. Rather let us sit

Apart, where we can look upon the war,

And leave it to mankind. And yet if Mars

Or Phoebus should begin the fight, or seek

To thwart Achilles or restrain his arm,

There will be cause for us to join the strife

In earnest, and I deem that they full soon,

The contest ended, will return to join

The assembled gods upon the Olympian mount,

Forced to withdraw by our all-potent hands.”


So spake the dark-haired god, and led the way

To the high mound of godlike Hercules,

Raised from the earth by Trojans, with the aid

Of Pallas, that the hero there might find

A refuge when the monster of the deep

Should chase him from the sea-beach to the plain.

With other gods beside him Neptune there

Sat down and drew a shadow, which no sight

Could pierce, around their shoulders. Other gods,

Upon the hill called Beautiful, were grouped

Round thee, Apollo, archer-god, and Mars,

Spoiler of cities. On both sides they sat,

Devising plans, unwilling to begin

The fierce encounter, though Almighty Jove

From where he sat in heaven commanded it.


The warriors thronged into the field, which shone

With brazen armor and caparisons

Of steeds; earth trembled with the sounding tramp

Of marching squadrons. From the opposing ranks

Two chieftains, each the bravest of his host,

Impatient to engage⁠—Anchises’ son,

Aeneas, and the great Achilles⁠—came.

And first Aeneas, with defiant mien

And nodding casque, stood forth. He held his shield

Before him, which he wielded right and left,

And shook his brazen spear. On the other side,

Pelides hurried toward him, terrible

As is a lion, which the assembled hinds

Of a whole village chase and seek to slay,

While on he stalks, contemning their assault;

But if the arrow of some strong-armed youth

Have smitten him, he stands, and gathers all

His strength to spring, with open jaws and teeth

Half hid in foam, and uttering fearful growls

From his deep chest; he lashes with his tail

His sides and sinewy thighs to rouse himself

To combat, and then, grimly frowning, leaps

To slay, or by the foremost youths be slain,

So sprang Achilles, moved by his bold heart

To meet the brave Aeneas. As the twain

Drew near each other, the swift-footed chief,

The great Achilles, was the first to speak:⁠—


“Why, O Aeneas, hast thou come so far

Through this vast crowd to seek me? Does thy heart

Bid thee confront me in the hope to gain

The place which Priam holds, and to bear rule

Over the knights Of Troy? Yet shouldst thou take

My life, think not that Priam in thy hand

Will place such large reward. He has his sons,

Nor is he fickle, but of stable mind.

Or will the Trojans, if thou slayest me,

Bestow on thee broad acres, of a soil

Fruitful exceedingly, and suited well

To vines or to the plough, which thou mayst till

That also, as I hope, thou wilt obtain

With difficulty; for, unless I err,

I forced thee once to flee before my spear.

Dost thou remember, when thou wert alone

Among thy beeves, I drave thee, running fast,

Down Ida’s steeps? Then didst thou never turn

To face me, but didst seek a hiding-place

Within Lyrnessus, which I also took

And wasted, with the aid of Father Jove

And Pallas. From the town I led away

The women, never to be free again.

Jove and the other gods protected thee

That day. Yet will they not protect thee now,

As thou dost vainly hope. Withstand me not,

I counsel thee, but hide thyself among

The crowd before thou suffer harm, for he

Who sees past evils only is a fool.”


And then Aeneas answered: “Do not think,

Pelides, with such words to frighten me,

As if I were a beardless boy. I too

Might use reproach and taunt; but well we know

Each other’s birth and lineage, through report

Of men, although by sight I know not thine,

Nor know’st thou mine. They say that thou art sprung

From Peleus the renowned, and from the nymph

Of ocean, fair-haired Thetis, while I boast

My birth from brave Anchises, and can claim

Venus as mother. Two of these today

Must weep the death of a beloved son,

For we are not to part, I think, nor end

The combat after a few childish words;

Yet let me speak, that thou mayst better know

Our lineage, known already far and wide.

Jove was the father, cloud-compelling Jove,

Of Dardanus, by whom Dardania first

Was peopled, ere our sacred Troy was built

On the great plain⁠—a populous town; for men

Dwelt still upon the roots of Ida fresh

With many springs. To Dardanus was born

King Erichthonius, richest in his day

Of mortal men, and in his meadows grazed

Three thousand mares, exulting in their brood

Of tender foals. Of some of this vast herd

Boreas became enamored as they fed.

He came to them in likeness of a steed

That wore an azure mane, and they brought forth

Twelve foals, which all were females, of such speed

That when they frolicked on the teeming earth

They flew along the topmost ears of wheat

And broke them not, and when they sported o’er

The mighty bosom of the deep they ran

Along the hoary summits of its waves.

To Erichthonius Tros was born, who ruled

The Trojans, and from Tros there sprang three sons

Of high renown⁠—Ilus, Assaracus,

And godlike Ganymede, most beautiful

Of men; the gods beheld and caught him up

To heaven, so beautiful was he, to pour

The wine to Jove, and ever dwell with them.

And Ilus had a son, Laomedon,

Of mighty fame, to whom five sons were born,

Tithonus, Priam, Lampus, Clytius,

And Hicetaon, trained to war by Mars.

Assaracus begat my ancestor,

Capys, to whom Anchises owes his birth.

Anchises is my father; Priam’s son

Is noble Hector. Such I claim to be

My lineage and my blood; but Jove at will

Gives in large measure, or diminishes,

Men’s warlike prowess; and the power of Jove

Is over all. But let us talk no more

Of things like these, as if we were but boys,

While here in the mid-field we stand between

The warring armies. Both of us might cast

Reproaches at each other, many and foul,

Such as no galley of a hundred oars

Could bear and float. Men’s tongues are voluble,

And endless are the modes of speech, and far

Extends from side to side the field of words.

Such as thou utterest it will be thy lot

To hear from others. But what profits it

For us to rail and wrangle, in high brawl,

Like women angered to the quick, that rush

Into the middle of the street and scold

With furious words, some true and others false,

As rage may prompt them? Me thou shalt not move

With words from my firm purpose ere thou raise

Thy arm against me. Let us hasten first

To prove the temper of our brazen spears.”


He spake, and hurled his brazen spear to smite

The dreadful shield, a terror in men’s eyes;

That mighty buckler rang with the strong blow.

Achilles, as it came, held forth his shield

With nervous arm far from him, for he feared

That the long javelin of his valiant foe

Might pierce it. Idle fear; he had not thought

That the bright armor given him by the gods

Not easily would yield to force of man.

Nor could the rapid spear that left the hand

Of brave Aeneas pierce the shield; the gold,

The gift of Vulcan, stopped it. Through two folds

It went, but three remained; for Vulcan’s skill

Fenced with five folds the disk⁠—the outer two

Of brass, the inner two of tin; between

Was one of gold, and there the brazen spear

Was stayed. And then in turn Achilles threw

His ponderous spear, and struck the orbèd shield

Borne by Aeneas near the upper edge,

Where thinnest was the brass and thinnest lay

The bullock’s hide. The Pelian ash broke through;

The buckler crashed; Aeneas, stooping low,

Held it above him, terrified; the spear,

Tearing both plate and hide of that huge shield,

Passed over him, and, eager to go on,

Plunged in the earth and stood. He, when he saw

The massive lance which he had just escaped

Fixed in the earth so near him, stood awhile

As struck with fear, and with despairing looks.

Achilles drew his trenchant sword and rushed

With fury on Aeneas, uttering

A fearful shout. Aeneas lifted up

A stone, a mighty weight, which no two men,

As men are now, could raise, yet easily

He wielded it. Aeneas then, to save

His threatened life, had smitten with the stone

His adversary’s buckler or his helm,

And with his sword Pelides had laid dead

The Trojan, had not he who shakes the earth,

Neptune, beheld him in that perilous hour,

And instantly addressed the immortal gods:⁠—


“My heart, ye gods, is heavy for the sake

Of the great-souled Aeneas, who will sink

To Hades overcome by Peleus’ son.

Rash man! He listened to the archer-god

Apollo, who has now no power to save

The chief from death. But, guiltless as he is,

Why should he suffer evil for the wrong

Of others? He has always sought to please

With welcome offerings the gods who dwell

In the broad heaven. Let us withdraw him, then,

From this great peril, lest, if he should fall

Before Achilles, haply Saturn’s son

May be displeased. And ’tis the will of fate

That he escape; that so the Dardan race,

Beloved by Jove above all others sprung

From him and mortal women, may not yet

Perish from earth and leave no progeny.

For Saturn’s son already holds the house

Of Priam in disfavor, and will make

Aeneas ruler o’er the men of Troy,

And his sons’ sons shall rule them after him.”


Imperial Juno with large eyes replied:

“Determine, Neptune, for thyself, and save

Aeneas, or, all blameless as he is,

Abandon him to perish by the hand

Of Peleus’ son, Achilles. We have sworn⁠—

Minerva and myself⁠—that never we

Would aid in aught the Trojans to escape

Their day of ruin, though the town of Troy

Sink to the dust in the destroying flames⁠—

Flames kindled by the warlike sons of Greece.”


And then did Neptune, shaker of the shores,

Go forth into the battle and amidst

The clash of spears, and come where stood the chiefs,

Aeneas and his mighty foe, the son

Of Peleus. Instantly he caused to rise

A darkness round the eyes of Peleus’ son,

And from the buckler of Aeneas drew

The spear with ashen stem and brazen blade,

And laid it at Achilles’ feet, and next

He lifted high Aeneas from the ground

And bore him thence. O’er many a warrior’s head,

And many a harnessed steed, Aeneas flew,

Hurled by the god, until he reached the rear

Of that fierce battle, where the Caucons stood

Arrayed for war. The shaker of the shores

Drew near, and said to him in wingèd words:⁠—


“What god, Aeneas, moved thee to defy

Madly the son of Peleus, who in might

Excels thee, and is dearer to the gods?

Whenever he encounters thee in arms

Give way, lest thou, against the will of fate,

Pass down to Hades. When he shall have met

His fate and perished, thou mayst boldly dare

To face the foremost of the enemy;

No other of the Greeks shall take thy life.


He spake, and having thus admonished him

He left Aeneas there, and suddenly

Swept off the darkness that so thickly rose

Around Achilles, who, with sight now clear,

Looked forth, and, sighing, said to his great soul:⁠—


“How strange is this! My eyes have seen today

A mighty marvel. Here the spear I flung

Is lying on the earth, and him at whom

I cast it, in the hope to take his life,

I see no longer. Well beloved, no doubt,

Is this Aeneas by the immortal gods.

Yet that, I thought, was but an empty boast

Of his. Well, let him go; I cannot think

That he who gladly fled from death will find

The courage to encounter me again.

And now will I exhort the Greeks to fight

This battle bravely, while I go to prove

The prowess of the other chiefs of Troy.”


He spake, and, cheering on the soldiery,

He sprang into the ranks: “Ye noble Greeks,

Avoid no more the Trojans; press right on.

“Let each man single out his man, and fight

With eager heart. ’Tis hard for me to chase,

With all my warlike might, so many men,

And fight with all. Not even Mars, the god,

Although immortal, nor Minerva’s self,

Could combat with so vast a multitude

Unwearied; yet whatever I can do,

With hands and feet and strength, I give my word

Not to decline, or be remiss in aught.

I go to range the Trojan files, where none,

I think, will gladly stand to meet my spear.”


Such stirring words he uttered, while aloud

Illustrious Hector called, encouraging

The men of Troy, and promising to meet

Achilles: “Valiant Trojans, do not quail

Before Pelides. In the strife of words

I too might bear my part against the gods;

But harder were the combat with the spear,

For greater is their might than ours. The son

Of Peleus cannot make his threatenings good.

A part will he perform and part will leave

Undone. I go to wait him; I would go

Although his hands were like consuming flame⁠—

His hands like flame, his strength the strength of steel.”


He spake: the Trojans at his stirring word

Lifted their lances, and the adverse hosts

Joined battle with a fearful din. Then came

Apollo and admonished Hector thus:⁠—


“Hector, encounter not Achilles here

Before the armies, but amidst the throng

And tumult of the battle, lest perchance

He strike thee with the javelin or the sword.”


He spake: the Trojan chief, dismayed to hear

The warning of the god, withdrew among

The crowded ranks. Meantime Achilles sprang

Upon the Trojans with a terrible cry,

And slew a leader of the host, the brave

Iphition, whom a Naiad, at the foot

Of snowy Tmolus, in the opulent vale

Of Hyda, bore to the great conqueror

Of towns, Otrynteus. As he came in haste,

The noble son of Peleus with his spear

Smote him upon the forehead in the midst,

And cleft the head in two. He fell; his arms

Clashed, and Achilles boasted o’er him thus:⁠—


“Son of Otrynteus, terrible in arms,

Thou art brought low; thou meetest here thy death,

Though thou wert born by the Gygaean lake

Where lie, by fishy Hyllus and the stream

Of eddying Hermus, thy paternal fields.”


Thus boastfully he spake, while darkness came

Over Iphition’s eyes, and underneath

The chariots of the Greeks who foremost fought

His corse was mangled. Next Achilles smote

Antenor’s son, Demoleon, gallantly

Breasting the onset of the Greeks. He pierced

His temple through the helmet’s brazen cheek;

The brass stayed not the blow; the eager spear

Brake through the bone, and crushed the brain within,

And the brave youth lay dead. Achilles next

Struck down Hippodamas; he pierced his back

As, leaping from his car, the Phrygian fled

Before him. With a moan he breathed away

His life, as moans a bull when dragged around

The altar of the Heliconian king

By youths on whom the god that shakes the earth

Looks down well pleased. With such a moaning sound

The fiery spirit left the Phrygian’s frame.


Then sprang Achilles with his spear to slay

The godlike Polydorus, Priam’s son,

Whose father bade him not to join the war,

For he was younger than the other sons,

And dearest of them all. In speed of foot

He had no peer. Yet, with a boyish pride

To show his swiftness, in the foremost ranks

He ranged the field, until he lost his life.

Him with a javelin the swift-footed son

Of Peleus smote as he was hurrying by.

The weapon pierced the middle of his back,

Where, by its golden rings, the belt was clasped

Above the double corselet; the keen blade

Came forth in front; the Trojan with a cry

Fell forward on his knees, and, bending, clasped

His bowels in his hands. When Hector saw

His brother thus upon the earth, there came

A darkness o’er his eyes, nor could he bear

Longer to stand aloof, but, brandishing

His spear, came forward like a rushing flame

To meet the son of Peleus, who beheld

And bounded toward him, saying boastfully:

“So, he is near whose hand hath given my heart

Its deepest wound, who slew my dearest friend.

No more are we to shun each other now,

Timidly stealing through the paths of war.”


And then he said to Hector with a frown:

“Draw nearer, that thou mayst the sooner die.”


The crested Hertor, undismayed, replied:

“Pelides, do not hope with empty words

To frighten me, as if I were a boy.

Insults and taunts I could with ease return.

I know that thou art brave; I know that I

In might am not thy equal; but the event

Rests in the laps of the great gods, and they

May, though I lack the prowess, give thy life

Into my hands when I shall cast my spear.

The weapon that I bear is keen like thine.”


Thus having spoken, blandishing his spear,

He sent it forth; but with a gentle breath

Minerva turned it from the glorious Greek,

And laid it at the noble Hector’s feet.

Then did Achilles, resolute to slay

His enemy, rush against him with a shout

Of fury; but Apollo, with such power

As gods put forth, withdrew him thence, and spread

A darkness round him. Thrice the swift of foot,

Achilles, rushed against him with his spear,

And thrice he smote the cloud. But when once more,

In godlike might, he made the assault, he spake

These wingèd words of menace and reproach:⁠—


“Hound as thou art, thou hast once more escaped

Thy death; for it was near. Again the hand

Of Phoebus rescues thee; to him thy vows

Are made ere thou dost trust thyself amidst

The clash of javelins. I shall meet thee yet

And end thee utterly, if any god

Favor me also. I will now pursue

And strike the other Trojan warriors down.”


He spake, and in the middle of the neck

Smote Dryops with his spear. The Phrygian fell

Before him at his feet. He left him there,

And wounding with his spear Philetor’s son,

Demuchus, tall and valiant, in the knee,

Stayed him until he slew him with his sword.

Then from their chariot to the ground he cast

Laogonus and Dardanus, the sons

Of Bias, piercing with a javelin one,

And cutting down the other with his sword.


And Tros, Alastor’s son, who came to him

And clasped his knees, in hope that he would spare

A captive⁠—spare his life, nor slay a youth

Of his own age⁠—vain hope! He little knew

That not by prayers Achilles could be moved,

Nor was he pitiful, nor mild of mood,

But hard of heart⁠—while Tros embraced his knees

And passionately sued, Pelides thrust

His sword into his side; the liver came

Forth at the wound; the dark blood gushing filled

The Phrygian’s bosom; o’er his eyes there crept

A darkness, and his life was at an end.


Approaching Mulius next, Achilles smote

The warrior at the ear; the brazen point

Passed through the other ear; and then he slew

Agenor’s son, Echeclus, letting fall

His heavy-hilted sword upon his head

Just in the midst; the blade grew warm with blood,

And gloomy death and unrelenting fate

Darkened the victim’s eyes. Achilles next

Wounded Deucalion, thrusting through his arm

The brazen javelin, where the sinews met

That strung the elbow. While with powerless arm

The wounded Trojan stood awaiting death,

Achilles drave his falchion through his neck.

Far flew the head and helm, the marrow flowed

From out the spine, and stretched upon the ground

Deucalion lay. Pelides still went on,

O’ertaking Rigmus, the renowned son

Of Peireus, from the fruitful fields of Thrace,

And smote him in the stomach with his lance.

There hung the weapon fixed; the wounded man

Fell from the car. At Areïthoüs

The charioteer, who turned his steeds to flee,

Achilles sent his murderous lance, and pierced

His back, and dashed him from the car, and left

His horses wild with fright. As when, among

The deep dells of an arid mountain-side,

A great fire burns its way, and the thick wood

Before it is consumed, and shifting winds

Hither and thither sweep the flames, so ranged

Achilles in his fury through the field

From side to side, and everywhere o’ertook

His victims, and the earth ran dark with blood.


As when a yeoman underneath the yoke

Brings his broad-fronted oxen to tread out

White barley on the level threshing-floor,

The sheaves are quickly trodden small beneath

The heavy footsteps of the bellowing beasts,

So did the firm-paced coursers, which the son

Of Peleus guided, trample with their feet

Bucklers and corpses, while beneath the car

Blood steeped the axle, and the chariot-seat

Dripped on its rim with blood, that from below

Was splashed upon them by the horses’ hoofs

And by the chariot-wheels. Such havoc made

Pelides in his ardor for renown,

Till his invincible hands were foul with blood.



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