Meantime Achilles, through their several tents, Summon’d to arms the warlike Myrmidons. They all, like rav’ning wolves, of courage high, That on the mountain side have hunted down An antler’d stag, and batten’d on his flesh: Their chaps all dyed with blood, in troops they go, With their lean tongues from some black-water’d fount To lap the surface of the dark cool wave, Their jaws with blood yet reeking, unsubdued Their courage, and their bellies gorg’d with flesh; So round Pelides’ valiant follower throng’d The chiefs and rulers of the Myrmidons. Achilles in the midst to charioteers And buckler’d warriors issued his commands. Fifty swift ships Achilles, dear to Jove, Led to the coast of Troy; and rang’d in each Fifty brave comrades mann’d the rowers’ seats. O’er these five chiefs, on whom he most relied, He plac’d, himself the Sov’reign Lord of all. One band Menestheus led, with glancing mail, Son of Sperchius, Heav’n-descended stream; Him Peleus’ daughter, Polydora fair, A mortal in a God’s embrace compress’d, To stout Sperchius bore; but, by repute, To Boras, Perieres’ son, who her In public, and with ample dow’r, espous’d. The brave Eudorus led the second band, Whom Phylas’ daughter, Polymele fair, To Hermes bore; the maid he saw, and lov’d, Amid the virgins, mingling in the dance Of golden-shafted Dian, Huntress-Queen; He to her chamber access found, and gain’d By stealth her bed; a valiant son she bore, Eudorus, swift of foot, in battle strong. But when her infant, by Lucina’s aid, Was brought to light, and saw the face of day, Her to his home, with ample dow’r enrich’d, Echecles, son of Actor, bore away; While him the aged Phylas kept, and nurs’d With tender care, and cherish’d—as his own. The brave Peisander, son of Maemalus, The third commanded; of the Myrmidons, Next to Pelides’ friend, the noblest spear. The fourth, the aged warrior Phoenix led; The fifth, Alcimedon, Laerces’ son: These in their order due Achilles first Array’d, and next with stirring words address’d: “Ye Myrmidons, forget not now the vaunts Which, while my wrath endur’d, ye largely pour’d Upon the Trojans; me ye freely blam’d; ‘Ill-omen’d son of Peleus, sure in wrath Thou wast conceiv’d, implacable, who here In idleness enforc’d thy comrades keep’st! ’Twere better far our homeward way to take, If such pernicious rancour fill thy soul!’ Thus ye reproach’d me oft! Lo! now ye have The great occasion which your souls desir’d! Then on, and with brave hearts the Trojans meet!”