Took safest course for him and his, and stood to her as strange. And as, when Jove intends a storm, he lets out of the stars, From steep Olympus, a black cloud, that all heav’n’s splendour bars From men on earth; so from the hearts of all the Trojan host All comfort lately found from Jove, in flight and cries was lost. Nor made they any fair retreat. Hector’s unruly horse Would needs retire him, and he left engag’d his Trojan force, Forc’d by the steepness of the dike, that in ill place they took, And kept them that would fain have gone. Their horses quite forsook A number of the Trojan kings, and left them in the dike; Their chariots in their foreteams broke. Patroclus then did strike While steel was hot, and cheer’d his friends; nor meant his enemies good, Who, when they once began to fly, each way receiv’d a flood, And chok’d themselves with drifts of dust. And now were clouds begot Beneath the clouds; with flight and noise the horse neglected not Their home intendments; and, where rout was busiest, there pour’d on Patroclus most exhorts and threats; and then lay overthrown Numbers beneath their axle-trees; who, lying in flight’s stream, Made th’ after chariots jot and jump, in driving over them. Th’ immortal horse Patroclus rode, did pass the dike with ease, And wish’d the depth and danger more; and Menœtiades As great a spirit had to reach, retiring Hector’s haste, But his fleet horse had too much law, and fetch’d him off too fast. And as in Autumn the black earth is loaden with the storms That Jove in gluts of rain pours down, being angry with the forms Of judgment in authoriz’d men, that in their courts maintain, With violent office, wrested laws, and (fearing Gods, nor men) Exile all justice; for whose fault, whole fields are overflown, And many valleys cut away with torrents headlong thrown From neighbour mountains, till the sea receive them roaring in, And judg’d men’s labours then are vain, plagu’d for their judge’s sin; So now the foul defaults of some all Troy were laid upon; So like those torrents roar’d they back to windy Ilion; And so like tempests blew the horse with ravishing back again Those hot assailants, all their works at fleet now render’d vain. Patroclus, when he had dispers’d the foremost phalanxes, Call’d back his forces to the fleet, and would not let them prease, As they desir’d, too near the town; but ’twixt the ships and flood, And their steep rampire, his hand steep’d Revenge in seas of blood. Then Pronous was first that fell beneath his fi’ry lance, Which strook his bare breast, near his shield. The second Thestor’s chance, Old Enops’ son, did make himself; who shrinking, and set close In his fair seat, ev’n with th’ approach Patroclus made, did lose All manly courage, insomuch that from his hands his reins Fell flowing down, and his right jaw Patroclus’ lance attains, Strock through his teeth, and there it stuck, and by it to him drew Dead Thestor to his chariot. It show’d, as when you view