His sinews with that sweet supply, for fear unsavoury fast Should creep into his knees. Herself the skies again enchas’d. The host set forth, and pour’d his steel waves far out of the fleet. And as from air the frosty north wind blows a cold thick sleet, That dazzles eyes, flakes after flakes incessantly descending; So thick, helms, curets, ashen darts, and round shields, never ending, Flow’d from the navy’s hollow womb. Their splendours gave heav’n’s eye His beams again. Earth laugh’d to see her face so like the sky; Arms shin’d so hot, and she such clouds made with the dust she cast, She thunder’d, feet of men and horse importun’d her so fast. In midst of all, divine Achilles his fair person arm’d, His teeth gnash’d as he stood, his eyes so full of fire they warm’d, Unsuffer’d grief and anger at the Trojans so combin’d. His greaves first us’d, his goodly curets on his bosom shin’d, His sword, his shield that cast a brightness from it like the moon. And as from sea sailors discern a harmful fire let run By herdsmen’s faults, till all their stall flies up in wrestling flame; Which being on hills is seen far off; but being alone, none came To give it quench, at shore no neighbours, and at sea their friends Driv’n off with tempests; such a fire, from his bright shield extends His ominous radiance, and in heav’n impress’d his fervent blaze. His crested helmet, grave and high, had next triumphant place On his curl’d head, and like a star it cast a spurry ray, About which a bright thicken’d bush of golden hair did play, Which Vulcan forg’d him for his plume. Thus cómplete arm’d, he tried How fit they were, and if his motion could with ease abide Their brave instruction; and so far they were from hind’ring it, That to it they were nimble wings, and made so light his spirit, That from the earth the princely captain they took up to air. Then from his armoury he drew his lance, his father’s spear, Huge, weighty, firm, that not a Greek but he himself alone Knew how to shake; it grew upon the mountain Pelion, From whóse height Chiron hew’d it for his sire, and fatal ’twas To great-soul’d men, of Peleus and Pelion surnam’d Pelias. Then from the stable their bright horse, Automedon withdraws And Alcymus; put poitrils on, and cast upon their jaws Their bridles, hurling back the reins, and hung them on the seat. The fair scourge then Automedon takes up, and up doth get To guide the horse. The fight’s seat last, Achilles took behind; Who look’d so arm’d as if the sun, there fall’n from heav’n, had shin’d, And terribly thus charg’d his steeds: “Xanthus and Balius, Seed of the Harpy, in the charge ye undertake of us, Discharge it not as when Patroclus ye left dead in field, But, when with blood, for this day’s fast observ’d, revenge shall yield Our heart satiety, bring us off.” Thus, since Achilles spake As if his aw’d steeds understood, ’twas Juno’s will to make Vocal the palate of the one; who, shaking his fair head,