He said: and Pallas vigour new inspir’d, That right and left he smote; dire were the groans Of slaughter’d men; the earth was red with blood; And as a lion on th’ untended flock Of sheep or goats with savage onslaught springs, Ev’n so Tydides on the Thracians sprang, Till twelve were slain; and as Tydides’ sword Gave each to death, Ulysses by the feet Drew each aside; reflecting, that perchance The horses, startled, might refuse to pass The corpses; for as yet they knew them not. But when Tydides saw the sleeping King, A thirteenth victim to his sword was giv’n, Painfully breathing; for by Pallas’ art, He saw that night, as in an evil dream, The son of Œneus standing o’er his head. Meanwhile Ulysses sage the horses loos’d; He gather’d up the reins, and with his bow (For whip was none at hand) he drove them forth; Then softly whistling to Tydides gave A signal; he, the while, remain’d behind, Musing what bolder deed he yet might do; Whether the seat, whereon the arms were laid, To draw away, or, lifted high in air, To bear it off in triumph on the car; Or on the Thracians farther loss inflict; But while he mus’d, beside him Pallas stood, And said, “Bethink thee, Tydeus’ son, betimes Of thy return, lest, if some other God Should wake the Trojans, thou shouldst need to fly.” She said; the heav’nly voice he recogniz’d, And mounted straight the car; Ulysses touch’d The horses with his bow; and, urg’d to speed, They tow’rd the ships their rapid course pursued. Nor idle watch Apollo kept, who saw Tydides o’er the plain by Pallas led; With anger fill’d, the Trojan camp he sought; And Rhesus’ kinsman, good Hippocoon, The Thracian councillor, from sleep arous’d; Awaking, when the vacant space he view’d, Where late had stood the horses; and his friends Gasping in death, and welt’ring in their blood, He groan’d as on his comrade’s name he call’d: Then loud the clamour rose, and wild uproar, Unspeakable, of Trojans thronging round; They marvell’d at the deeds; but marvell’d more How they who wrought them had escap’d unscath’d. Meantime arriv’d where Hector’s scout they slew, Ulysses, lov’d of Heav’n, a moment check’d His eager steeds; Tydides from the car Leap’d to the ground, and in Ulysses’ hand The bloody trophies plac’d; then mounted quick, And tow’rd the ships, their destin’d goal, urg’d on The fiery horses; nothing loth, they flew. Nestor first heard the sound, and cried, “O friends, The leaders and the councillors of Greece, Am I deceiv’d, or is it true? methinks The sound of horses, hurrying, strikes mine ear; Grant Heav’n, Ulysses and brave Diomed May bring those horses from the Trojan camp; Yet much I fear our bravest may have met With some disaster ’mid the crowd of foes.”