So when they all stood mailed in battle-gear, Forth of the gates they poured all eager-souled For war. Against the chariots of the Greeks Their chariots charged; their ranks of footmen pressed To meet the footmen of the foe. The earth Rang to the tramp of onset; pealed the cheer From man to man; swift closed the fronts of war. Loud clashed their arms all round; from either side War-cries were mingled in one awful roar Swift-winged full many a dart and arrow flew From host to host; loud clanged the smitten shields 'Neath thrusting spears, 'neath javelin-point and sword: Men hewed with battle-axes lightening down; Crimson the armour ran with blood of men. And all this while Troy's wives and daughters watched From high walls that grim battle of the strong. All trembled as they prayed for husbands, sons, And brothers: white-haired sires amidst them sat, And gazed, while anguished fear for sons devoured Their hearts. But Helen in her bower abode Amidst her maids, there held by utter shame. So without pause before the wall they fought, While Death exulted o'er them; deadly Strife Shrieked out a long wild cry from host to host. With blood of slain men dust became red mire: Here, there, fast fell the warriors mid the fray. Then slew Deiphobus the charioteer Of Nestor, Hippasus' son: from that high car Down fell he 'midst the dead; fear seized his lord Lest, while his hands were cumbered with the reins, He too by Priam's strong son might be slain. Melanthius marked his plight: swiftly he sprang Upon the car; he urged the horses on, Shaking the reins, goading them with his spear, Seeing the scourge was lost. But Priam's son Left these, and plunged amid a throng of foes. There upon many he brought the day of doom; For like a ruining tempest on he stormed Through reeling ranks. His mighty hand struck down Foes numberless: the plain was heaped with dead. As when a woodman on the long-ridged hills Plunges amid the forest-depths, and hews With might and main, and fells sap-laden trees To make him store of charcoal from the heaps Of billets overturfed and set afire: The trunks on all sides fallen strew the slopes, While o'er his work the man exulteth; so Before Deiphobus' swift death-dealing hands In heaps the Achaeans each on other fell. The charging lines of Troy swept over some; Some fled to Xanthus' stream: Deiphobus chased Into the flood yet more, and slew and slew. As when on fish-abounding Hellespont's strand The fishermen hard-straining drag a net Forth of the depths to land; but, while it trails Yet through the sea, one leaps amid the waves Grasping in hand a sinuous-headed spear To deal the sword-fish death, and here and there, Fast as he meets them, slays them, and with blood The waves are reddened; so were Xanthus' streams Impurpled by his hands, and choked with dead.