Then through the foe the son of Peleus made Wide havoc: all around the earth was drenched With gore, and choked with corpses were the streams Of Simois and Xanthus. Still he chased, Still slaughtered, even to the city's walls; For panic fell on all the host. And now All had he slain, had dashed the gates to earth, Rending them from their hinges, or the bolts, Hurling himself against them, had he snapped, And for the Danaans into Priam's burg Had made a way, had utterly destroyed That goodly town--but now was Phoebus wroth Against him with grim fury, when he saw Those countless troops of heroes slain of him. Down from Olympus with a lion-leap He came: his quiver on his shoulders lay, And shafts that deal the wounds incurable. Facing Achilles stood he; round him clashed Quiver and arrows; blazed with quenchless flame His eyes, and shook the earth beneath his feet. Then with a terrible shout the great God cried, So to turn back from war Achilles awed By the voice divine, and save from death the Trojans: "Back from the Trojans, Peleus' son! Beseems not That longer thou deal death unto thy foes, Lest an Olympian God abase thy pride." But nothing quailed the hero at the voice Immortal, for that round him even now Hovered the unrelenting Fates. He recked Naught of the God, and shouted his defiance. "Phoebus, why dost thou in mine own despite Stir me to fight with Gods, and wouldst protect The arrogant Trojans? Heretofore hast thou By thy beguiling turned me from the fray, When from destruction thou at the first didst save Hector, whereat the Trojans all through Troy Exulted. Nay, thou get thee back: return Unto the mansion of the Blessed, lest I smite thee--ay, immortal though thou be!" Then on the God he turned his back, and sped After the Trojans fleeing cityward, And harried still their flight; but wroth at heart Thus Phoebus spake to his indignant soul: "Out on this man! he is sense-bereft! But now Not Zeus himself nor any other Power Shall save this madman who defies the Gods!"