So toiled they in the fight: the wind's breath rolled Huge dust-clouds up; the illimitable air Was one thick haze, as with a sudden mist:
Earth disappeared, faces were blotted out;
Yet still they fought on; each man, whomso he met, Ruthlessly slew him, though his very friend It might be -- in that turmoil none could tell Who met him, friend or foe: blind wilderment Enmeshed the hosts. And now had all been blent Confusedly, had perished miserably, All falling by their fellows' murderous swords, Had not Cronion from Olympus helped Their sore strait, and he swept aside the dust Of conflict, and he calmed those deadly winds.
Yet still the hosts fought on; but lighter far Their battle-travail was, who now discerned Whom in the fray to smite, and whom to spare.
The Danaans now forced back the Trojan host, The Trojans now the Danaan ranks, as swayed The dread fight to and fro. From either side Darts leapt and fell like snowflakes. Far away Shepherds from Ida trembling watched the strife, And to the Heaven-abiders lifted hands Of supplication, praying that all their foes Might perish, and that from the woeful war Troy might win breathing-space, and see at last The day of freedom: the Gods hearkened not.
Far other issues Fate devised, nor recked Of Zeus the Almighty, nor of none beside Of the Immortals. Her unpitying soul Cares naught what doom she spinneth with her thread Inevitable, be it for men new-born Or cities: all things wax and wane through her.
So by her hest the battle-travail swelled 'Twixt Trojan chariot-lords and Greeks that closed In grapple of fight -- they dealt each other death Ruthlessly: no man quailed, but stout of heart Fought on; for courage thrusts men into war.
But now when many had perished in the dust, Then did the Argive might prevail at last By stern decree of Pallas; for she came Into the heart of battle, hot to help The Greeks to lay waste Priam's glorious town.
Then Aphrodite, who lamented sore For Paris slain, snatched suddenly away Renowned Aeneas from the deadly strife, And poured thick mist about him. Fate forbade That hero any longer to contend With Argive foes without the high-built wall.
Yea, and his mother sorely feared the wrath Of Pallas passing-wise, whose heart was keen To help the Danaans now -- yea, feared lest she Might slay him even beyond his doom, who spared Not Ares' self, a mightier far than he.
No more the Trojans now abode the edge Of fight, but all disheartened backward drew.
For like fierce ravening beasts the Argive men Leapt on them, mad with murderous rage of war.
Choked with their slain the river-channels were, Heaped was the field; in red dust thousands fell, Horses and men; and chariots overturned Were strewn there: blood was streaming all around Like rain, for deadly Doom raged through the fray.
Men stabbed with swords, and men impaled on spears Lay all confusedly, like scattered beams, When on the strand of the low-thundering sea Men from great girders of a tall ship's hull Strike out the bolts and clamps, and scatter wide Long planks and timbers, till the whole broad beach Is paved with beams o'erplashed by darkling surge;
So lay in dust and blood those slaughtered men, Rapture and pain of fight forgotten now.
A remnant from the pitiless strife escaped Entered their stronghold, scarce eluding doom.
Children and wives from their limbs blood-besprent Received their arms bedabbled with foul gore;
And baths for all were heated. Leeches ran Through all the town in hot haste to the homes Of wounded men to minister to their hurts.
Here wives and daughters moaned round men come back From war, there cried on many who came not Here, men stung to the soul by bitter pangs Groaned upon beds of pain; there, toil-spent men Turned them to supper. Whinnied the swift steeds And neighed o'er mangers heaped. By tent and ship Far off the Greeks did even as they of Troy.
When o'er the streams of Ocean Dawn drove up Her splendour-flashing steeds, and earth's tribes waked, Then the strong Argives' battle-eager sons Marched against Priam's city lofty-towered, Save some that mid the tents by wounded men Tarried, lest haply raiders on the ships Might fall, to help the Trojans, while these fought The foe from towers, while rose the flame of war.
Before the Scaean gate fought Capaneus' son And godlike Diomedes. High above Deiphobus battle-staunch and strong Polites With many comrades, stoutly held them back With arrows and huge stones. Clanged evermore The smitten helms and shields that fenced strong men From bitter doom and unrelenting fate, Before the Gate Idaean Achilles' son Set in array the fight: around him toiled His host of battle-cunning Myrmidons.
Helenus and Agenor gallant-souled, Down-hailing darts, against them held the wall, Aye cheering on their men. No spurring these Needed to fight hard for their country's walls.
Odysseus and Eurypylus made assault Unresting on the gates that fated the plain And looked to the swift ships. From wall and tower With huge stones brave Aeneas made defence.
In battle-stress by Simons Teucer toiled.
Each endured hardness at his several post.
Then round war-wise Odysseus men renowned, By that great captain's battle cunning ruled, Locked shields together, raised them o'er their heads Ranged side by side, that many were made one.
Thou hadst said it was a great hall's solid roof, Which no tempestuous wind-blast misty wet Can pierce, nor rain from heaven in torrents poured.
So fenced about with shields firm stood the ranks Of Argives, one in heart for fight, and one In that array close-welded. From above The Trojans hailed great stones; as from a rock Rolled these to earth. Full many a spear and dart And galling javelin in the pierced shields stood;
