Their armour golden: and to them opposed The Centaur band stood thronging: Asbolus, Prophet of birds; Petræus huge of height; Arctus, and Urius, and of raven locks Mimas; the two Peucidæ, Dryalus, And Perimedes: all of silver frame, And grasping golden pine-trees in their hands. At once they onset made: in very life They rush’d, and hand to hand tumultuous closed With pines and clashing spears. There fleet of hoof The steeds were standing of stern-visaged Mars In gold: and he himself, tearer of spoils, Life-waster, purpled all with dropping blood, As one who slew the living and despoil’d, Loud-shouting to the warrior-infantry There vaulted on his chariot. Him beside Stood Fear and Consternation: high their hearts Panted, all eager for the war of men. There too Minerva rose, leader of hosts, Resembling Pallas when she would array The marshall’d battle. In her grasp the spear, And on her brows a golden helm: athwart Her shoulders thrown her ægis. Went she forth In this array to meet the dreadful shout Of war. And there a tuneful choir appear’d Of heaven’s immortals: in the midst the son Of Jove and of Latona sweetly rang Upon his golden harp. Th’ Olympian mount, Dwelling of gods, thrill’d back the broken sound. And there were seen th’ assembly of the gods Listening, encircled with their blaze of glory: And in sweet contest with Apollo there The virgins of Pieria raised the strain Preluding; and they seem’d as though they sang With clear sonorous voice. And there appear’d A sheltering haven from the untamed rage Of ocean. It was wrought of tin refined, And rounded by the chisel: and it seem’d Like to the dashing wave: and in the midst Full many dolphins chased the fry, and show’d As though they swam the waters, to and fro Darting tumultuous. Two of silver scale, Panting above the wave, the fishes mute Gorged, that beneath them shook their quivering fins In brass: but on the crag a fisher sate Observant: in his grasp he held a net, Like one that, poising, rises to the throw. There was the horseman, fair-hair’d Danaë’s son, Perseus: nor yet the buckler with his feet Touch’d, nor yet distant hover’d: strange to think: For nowhere on the surface of the shield He rested: so the crippled artist-god Illustrious framed him with his hands in gold. Bound to his feet were sandals wing’d: a sword Of brass with hilt of sable ebony Hung round him from the shoulders by a thong: Swift e’en as thought he flew. The visage grim Of monstrous Gorgon all his back o’erspread: And wrought in silver, wondrous to behold, A veil was drawn around it, whence in gold Hung glittering fringes: and the dreadful helm Of Pluto clasp’d the temples of the prince, Shedding a night of darkness. Thus outstretch’d