“Along their face The big round drops cours’d down with silent pace Conglobing on the dust. Their manes that late Circled their arched necks and waved in state Trailed on the dust beneath the yoke, were spread, And prone to earth was hung their languid head.” But even more marvellous was the time when Xanthus broke into speech and warned his master of his approaching doom. It is quite in the manner of an animal in a savage myth, but in the days of Homer’s “Iliad” thought had advanced so far among the Greeks that the speech of this horse was not regarded as a perfectly natural event as it would be in a savage myth. It was Juno, the goddess, who willed that Xanthus should break eternal silence and portentous speak. Achilles addresses his horses, and Xanthus answers: “Xanthus and Balius! of Podarges’ strain; (Unless ye boast that heavenly race in vain) Be swift, be mindful of the load ye bear And learn to make your master more your care: Through falling squadrons bear my slaughtering sword, Nor, as ye left Patroclus, leave your lord.” The generous Xanthus, as the words he said, Seemed sensible of woe, and droop’d his head: Trembling he stood before the golden wain, And bow’d to dust the honors of his mane; When, strange to tell! (so Juno will’d) he broke Eternal silence, and portentous spoke: “Achilles! yes! this day at least we bear Thy rage in safety through the files of war: But come it will, the fatal time must come, Not ours the fault, but God decrees thy doom. Not through our crime, or slowness in the course, Tell thy Patroclus, but by heavenly force: The bright far-shooting god who gilds the day (Confess’d we saw him) tore his arms away. No: could our swiftness o’er the winds prevail, Or beat the pinions of the western gale, All were in vain: the fates thy death demand, Due to a mortal and immortal hand.’ Then ceas’d forever, by the Furies tied, This fateful voice. Th’ intrepid chief replied With unabated rage: ‘So let it be! Portents and prodigies are lost on me.’” [Illustration: Zeus. _From Pompeii._]