Yet after, but a little fed, she grows so vast and tall That, while her feet move here in earth, her forehead is in heav’n; And this was she that made ev’n then both hosts so deadly giv’n. Through ev’ry troop she stalk’d, and stirr’d rough sighs up as she went; But when in one field both the foes her fury did content, And both came under reach of darts, then darts and shields oppos’d To darts and shields; strength answer’d strength; then swords and targets clos’d With swords and targets; both with pikes; and then did tumult rise Up to her height; then conqu’rors’ boasts mix’d with the conquer’d’s cries; Earth flow’d with blood. And as from hills rainwaters headlong fall, That all ways eat huge ruts, which, met in one bed, fill a vall With such a confluence of streams, that on the mountain grounds Far off, in frighted shepherds’ ears, the bustling noise rebounds: So grew their conflicts, and so show’d their scuffling to the ear, With flight and clamour still commix’d, and all effects of fear. And first renown’d Antilochus slew (fighting, in the face Of all Achaia’s foremost bands, with an undaunted grace) Echepolus Thalysiades; he was an arméd man; Whom on his hair-plum’d helmet’s crest the dart first smote, then ran Into his forehead, and there stuck; the steel pile making way Quite through his skull; a hasty night shut up his latest day. His fall was like a fight-rac’d tow’r; like which lying there dispread, King Elephenor (who was son to Chalcodon, and led The valiant Abants) covetous that he might first possess His arms, laid hands upon his feet, and hal’d him from the press Of darts and jav’lins hurl’d at him. The action of the king When great-in-heart Agenor saw, he made his jav’lin sing To th’ others’ labour; and along as he the trunk did wrest, His side (at which he bore his shield) in bowing of his breast Lay naked, and receiv’d the lance, that made him lose his hold And life together; which, in hope of that he lost, he sold, But for his sake the fight grew fierce, the Trojans and their foes Like wolves on one another rush’d, and man for man it goes. The next of name, that serv’d his fate, great Ajax Telamon Preferr’d so sadly. He was heir to old Anthemion, And deck’d with all the flow’r of youth; the fruit of which yet fled, Before the honour’d nuptial torch could light him to his bed. His name was Simoisius; for, some few years before, His mother walking down the hill of Ida, by the shore Of silver Simois, to see her parents’ flocks, with them She, feeling suddenly the pains of child-birth, by the stream Of that bright river brought him forth; and so (of Simois) They call’d him Simoisius. Sweet was that birth of his To his kind parents, and his growth did all their care employ; And yet those rites of piety, that should have been his joy To pay their honour’d years again in as affectionate sort, He could not graciously perform, his sweet life was so short, Cut off with mighty Ajax’ lance; for, as his spirit put on,