Still in the midst of blood-stained battle-rout Those heroes fought, unknowing of the Fates Now drawn so nigh, but each at other hurled His whole heart's courage, all his bodily might. Thou hadst said that in the strife of that dread day Huge tireless Giants or strong Titans warred, So fiercely blazed the wildfire of their strife, Now, when they clashed with swords, now when they leapt Hurling huge stones. Nor either would give back Before the hail of blows, nor quailed. They stood Like storm-tormented headlands steadfast, clothed With might past words, unearthly; for the twain Alike could boast their lineage of high Zeus. Therefore 'twixt these Enyo lengthened out The even-balanced strife, while ever they In that grim wrestle strained their uttermost, They and their dauntless comrades, round their kings With ceaseless fury toiling, till their spears Stood shivered all in shields of warriors slain, And of the fighters woundless none remained; But from all limbs streamed down into the dust The blood and sweat of that unresting strain Of fight, and earth was hidden with the dead, As heaven is hidden with clouds when meets the sun The Goat-star, and the shipman dreads the deep. As charged the lines, the snorting chariot-steeds Trampled the dead, as on the myriad leaves Ye trample in the woods at entering-in Of winter, when the autumn-tide is past. Still mid the corpses and the blood fought on Those glorious sons of Gods, nor ever ceased From wrath of fight. But Eris now inclined The fatal scales of battle, which no more Were equal-poised. Beneath the breast-bone then Of godlike Memnon plunged Achilles' sword; Clear through his body all the dark-blue blade Leapt: suddenly snapped the silver cord of life. Down in a pool of blood he fell, and clashed His massy armour, and earth rang again. Then turned to flight his comrades panic-struck, And of his arms the Myrmidons stripped the dead, While fled the Trojans, and Achilles chased, As whirlwind swift and mighty to destroy.