Then, throwing on the car the bloody spoils, He mounted, hands and feet imbrued with blood, As ’twere a lion, fresh from his repast Upon the carcase of a slaughter’d bull. Again around Patroclus’ body rag’d The stubborn conflict, direful, sorrow-fraught: From Heav’n descending, Pallas stirr’d the strife, Sent by all-seeing Jove to stimulate The warlike Greeks; so changed was now his will. As o’er the face of Heav’n when Jove extends His bright-hued bow, a sign to mortal men Of war, or wintry storms, which bid surcease The rural works of man, and pinch the flocks; So Pallas, in a bright-hued cloud array’d, Pass’d through the ranks, and rous’d each sev’ral man. To noble Menelaus, Atreus’ son, Who close beside her stood, the Goddess first, The form of Phoenix and his pow’rful voice Assuming, thus her stirring words address’d: “On thee, O Menelaus, foul reproach Will fasten, if Achilles’ faithful friend The dogs devour beneath the walls of Troy; Then hold thou firm, and all the host inspire.” To whom thus Menelaus, good in fight: “O Phoenix, aged warrior, honour’d sire, If Pallas would the needful pow’r impart, And o’er me spread her aegis, then would I Undaunted for Patroclus’ rescue fight, For deeply by his death my heart is touch’d; But valiant Hector, with the strength of fire Still rages, and destruction deals around: For Jove is with him, and his triumph wills.” He said: the blue-ey’d Goddess heard with joy That, chief of all the Gods, her aid he sought. She gave fresh vigour to his arms and knees, And to his breast the boldness of the fly, Which, oft repell’d by man, renews th’ assault Incessant, lur’d by taste of human blood; Such boldness in Atrides’ manly breast Pallas inspir’d: beside Patroclus’ corpse Again he stood, and pois’d his glitt’ring spear. There was one Podes in the Trojan ranks, Son of Eetion, rich, of blameless life, Of all the people most to Hector dear, And at his table oft a welcome guest: Him, as he turn’d to fly, beneath the waist Atrides struck; right through the spear was driv’n; Thund’ring he fell; and Atreus’ son the corpse Dragg’d from the Trojans ’mid the ranks of Greece. Then close at Hector’s side Apollo stood, Clad in the form of Phaenops, Asius’ son, Who in Abydos dwelt; of all th’ Allies Honour’d of Hector most, and best belov’d; Clad in his form, the Far-destroyer spoke: “Hector, what other Greek will scare thee next? Who shrink’st from Menelaus, heretofore A warrior deem’d of no repute; but now, Alone, he robs our Trojans of their dead; And in the foremost ranks e’en now hath slain Podes, thine own good friend, Eetion’s son.” He said; dark grief o’erclouded Hector’s brow, As to the front in dazzling arms he sprang. Then Saturn’s son his tassell’d aegis wav’d, All glitt’ring bright; and Ida’s lofty head In clouds and darkness shrouded; then he bade His lightning flash, his volleying thunder roar, That shook the mountain; and with vict’ry crown’d The Trojan arms, and panic-struck the Greeks.