And showed his son the old scars on his breast, Proud memories of fights fought long ago.
So when they all stood mailed in battle-gear, Forth of the gates they poured all eager-souled For war. Against the chariots of the Greeks Their chariots charged; their ranks of footmen pressed To meet the footmen of the foe. The earth Rang to the tramp of onset; pealed the cheer From man to man; swift closed the fronts of war.
Loud clashed their arms all round; from either side War-cries were mingled in one awful roar Swift-winged full many a dart and arrow flew From host to host; loud clanged the smitten shields 'Neath thrusting spears. neath javelin-point and sword:
Men hewed with battle-axes lightening down;
Crimson the armour ran with blood of men.
And all this while Troy's wives and daughters watched From high walls that grim battle of the strong.
All trembled as they prayed for husbands, sons, And brothers: white-haired sires amidst them sat, And gazed, while anguished fear for sons devoured Their hearts. But Helen in her bower abode Amidst her maids, there held by utter shame.
So without pause before the wall they fought, While Death exulted o'er them; deadly Strife Shrieked out a long wild cry from host to host.
With blood of slain men dust became red mire:
Here, there, fast fell the warriors mid the fray.
Then slew Deiphobus the charioteer Of Nestor, Hippasus' son: from that high car Down fell he 'midst the dead; fear seized his lord Lest, while his hands were cumbered with the reins, He too by Priam's strong son might be slain.
Melanthius marked his plight: swiftly he sprang Upon the car; he urged the horses on, Shaking the reins, goading them with his spear, Seeing the scourge was lost. But Priam's son Left these, and plunged amid a throng of foes.
There upon many he brought the day of doom;
For like a ruining tempest on he stormed Through reeling ranks. His mighty hand struck down Foes numberless: the plain was heaped with dead.
As when a woodman on the long-ridged hills Plunges amid the forest-depths, and hews With might and main, and fells sap-laden trees To make him store of charcoal from the heaps Of billets overturfed and set afire:
The trunks on all sides fallen strew the slopes, While o'er his work the man exulteth; so Before Deiphobus' swift death-dealing hands In heaps the Achaeans each on other fell.
The charging lines of Troy swept over some;
Some fled to Xanthus' stream: Deiphobus chased Into the flood yet more, and slew and slew.
As when on fish-abounding Hellespont's strand The fishermen hard-straining drag a net Forth of the depths to land; but, while it trails Yet through the sea, one leaps amid the waves Grasping in hand a sinuous-headed spear To deal the sword-fish death, and here and there, Fast as he meets them, slays them, and with blood The waves are reddened; so were Xanthus' streams Impurpled by his hands, and choked with dead.
Yet not without sore loss the Trojans fought;
For all this while Peleides' fierce-heart son Of other ranks made havoc. Thetis gazed Rejoicing in her son's son, with a joy As great as was her grief for Achilles slain.
For a great host beneath his spear were hurled Down to the dust, steeds, warriors slaughter-blent.
And still he chased, and still he slew: he smote Amides war-renowned, who on his steed Bore down on him, but of his horsemanship Small profit won. The bright spear pierced him through From navel unto spine, and all his bowels Gushed out, and deadly Doom laid hold on him Even as he fell beside his horse's feet.
Ascanius and Oenops next he slew;
Under the fifth rib of the one he drave His spear, the other stabbed he 'neath the throat Where a wound bringeth surest doom to man.
Whomso he met besides he slew -- the names What man could tell of all that by the hands Of Neoptolemus died? Never his limbs Waxed weary. As some brawny labourer, With strong hands toiling in a fruitful field The livelong day, rains down to earth the fruit Of olives, swiftly beating with his pole, And with the downfall covers all the ground, So fast fell 'neath his hands the thronging foe.
Elsewhere did Agamemnon, Tydeus' son, And other chieftains of the Danaans toil With fury in the fight. Yet never quailed The mighty men of Troy: with heart and soul They also fought, and ever stayed from flight Such as gave back. Yet many heeded not Their chiefs, but fled, cowed by the Achaeans' might.
Now at the last Achilles' strong son marked How fast beside Scamander's outfall Greeks Were perishing. Those Troyward-fleeing foes Whom he had followed slaying, left he now, And bade Automedon thither drive, where hosts Were falling of the Achaeans. Straightway he Hearkened, and scourged the steeds immortal on To that wild fray: bearing their lord they flew Swiftly o'er battle-highways paved with death.
As Ares chariot-borne to murderous war Fares forth, and round his onrush quakes the ground, While on the God's breast clash celestial arms Outflashing fire, so charged Achilles' son Against Deiphobus. Clouds of dust upsoared About his horses' feet. Automedon marked The Trojan chief, and knew him. To his lord Straightway he named that hero war-renowned:
"My king, this is Deiphobus' array -- The man who from thy father fled in fear.
Some God or fiend with courage fills him now."
Naught answered Neoptolemus, save to bid Drive on the steeds yet faster, that with speed He might avert grim death from perishing friends.
But when to each other now full nigh they drew, Deiphobus, despite his battle-lust, Stayed, as a ravening fire stays when it meets Water. He marvelled, seeing Achilles' steeds And that gigantic son, huge as his sire;
