As by the west wind driv’n, the ocean waves Dash forward on the far-resounding shore, Wave upon wave; first curls the ruffled sea With whit’ning crests; anon with thund’ring roar It breaks upon the beach, and from the crags Recoiling flings in giant curves its head Aloft, and tosses high the wild sea-spray: Column on column, so the hosts of Greece Pour’d, ceaseless, to the war; to each the chiefs Their orders gave; the rest in silence mov’d: Nor would ye deem that mighty mass endued With power of speech, so silently they moved In awe of their great captains: far around Flashed the bright armour they were girt withal. On th’ other hand, the Trojans, as the flocks That in the court-yard of some wealthy Lord In countless numbers stand, at milking-time, Incessant bleating, as their lambs they hear; So rose their mingled clamours through the camp; For not one language nor one speech was there, But many nations call’d from distant lands: These Mars inspir’d, and those the blue-ey’d Maid; And Fear, and Flight, and Discord unappeas’d, Of blood-stain’d Mars the sister and the friend: “With humble crest at first, anon her head, “While yet she treads the earth, affronts the skies. The gage of battle in the midst she threw, Strode through the crowd, and woe to mortals wrought. When to the midst they came, together rush’d Bucklers and lances, and the furious might Of mail-clad warriors; bossy shield on shield Clatter’d in conflict; loud the clamour rose. Then rose too mingled shouts and groans of men Slaying and slain; the earth ran red with blood. As when, descending from the mountain’s brow, Two wintry torrents, from their copious source Pour downward to the narrow pass, where meet Their mingled waters in some deep ravine, Their weight of flood; on the far mountain’s side The shepherd hears the roar; so loud arose The shouts and yells of those commingling hosts. First ’mid the foremost ranks Antilochus A Trojan warrior, Echepolus, slew, A crested chief, Thalesius’ noble son. Beneath his horsehair-plumed helmet’s peak The sharp spear struck; deep in his forehead fix’d It pierc’d the bone; then darkness veil’d his eyes, And, like a tow’r, amid the press he fell. Him Elephenor, brave Abantian chief, Son of Chalcodon, seizing by the feet, Dragg’d from beneath the darts, in haste to strip His armour off; but short-liv’d was th’ attempt; For bold Agenor mark’d him as he drew The corpse aside, and with his brass-tipp’d spear Thrust through his flank, unguarded, as he stoop’d, Beside his shield; and slack’d his limbs in death. The spirit was fled; but hotly o’er him rag’d The war of Greeks and Trojans; fierce as wolves They fought, man struggling hand to hand with man.