BOOK XX

The Gods at War

Thus beside the beaked ships and all around you,

O war-starved Achilles, Achaeans armed for the fight,

And up the plain from them the Trojans did likewise.

But powerful Zeus, from the many-ridged peak of Olympus,

Bade Themis call the gods to a meeting,¹ and quickly

She went to them all and summoned them to the assembly

At Zeus’s palace. Not one river-god was absent

Except Oceanus, nor any nymph, of all those

Who haunt the lovely groves, the springs where rivers

Rise, and the grassy fields. Once there at the house

Of the cloud-gathering god, all the immortals took seats

Within the rows of bright columns which skillful Hephaestus

Had made for Zeus their Father.

Nor did earth-shaking

Poseidon ignore Themis’ call, but emerged from the brine

To join them. And now he sat in their midst and inquired

About Zeus’s purpose: “Why, 0 lord of the lightning,

Have you called this meeting of gods? Are you worried about

The Achaeans and Trojans, between whom battle is almost

Ready to blaze?”

Then Zeus of the gathering gale

Answered him thus: “You’re right, great shaker of shores,

I have indeed called this gathering of the immortals

Because of my deep concern for those warriors, doomed

Though they are. I myself, of course, will stay on a ridge

Of Olympus, from which I may watch the war as I please.

But all of you other immortals go down and help

The Achaeans and Trojans, aiding whichever side

You prefer. For if fast-fighting Achilles attacks

The unaided Trojans, they won’t be able to hold out

A moment. They’ve never been able to so much as see him

Without fear and trembling, and now that flaming rage

For the death of his friend is eating his heart, I’m afraid

He will outstrip his fate by leveling the walls of the city.”

These words of Cronos’ son Zeus awoke stubborn war,

And the gods went down to join their differing favorites.

Hera and Pallas Athena went to the ships

Of the Argives, and with them Poseidon and luck-bringing

Hermes,

The wiliest god of all. And with these went Hephaestus,

Exulting in might, for though he limped, his thin legs

Were nimble enough. But huge bright-helmeted Ares

And Apollo with hair unshorn went down to the Trojans,

Along with arrow-showering Artemis, Leto,

The river-god Xanthus, and Aphrodite, adorer

Of smiles.

So long as the gods were not there, the Achaeans

Won glorious victory, since now Achilles, who had

For so long stayed out of the painful fighting, had come forth

Again, and there was no Trojan whose legs did not tremble

At sight of quick-footed Achilles, flaming in arms

Like the man-maiming War-god himself But when the Olympians

Entered the tumult, host-harrying Hatred arose

With a vengeance. Athena screamed her great war-cry, now

From beside the deep trench outside the wall, now

From the surf-beaten shore of the sea, and opposite her

Dread Ares, ominous as a dark whirlwind, screamed

From the citadel heights, and again as he charged down the slope

Of Callicolone beside the banks of Simoeis.

Thus the happy gods greatly augmented the clash

Of battle and made bitter strife break out everywhere

Between the two armies fighting in horrible uproar.

Then from on high the Father of gods and men

Awesomely thundered, while down below Poseidon

Caused the limitless earth to rumble and quake

From plain to sheer mountain peaks. Well-watered Ida

Was shaken from bottom to top, as were the city

Of Troy and ships of Achaea. Hades, god

Of ghosts in the world under ground, was filled with panic

And sprang from his throne with a scream, lest Poseidon, shaker

Of earth, should split the ground open above him and thus

Reveal to men and immortals the ghastly abodes

Of death, the moldering horrors that even the gods

Would look on with loathing.

Such was the mighty uproar

When god clashed with god in strife. For against lord Poseidon

Stood Phoebus Apollo, god of the winged shafts,

And opposite Ares stood bright-eyed Athena. Opposing

Hera was Phoebus’ sister, the archer Artemis,

Goddess of golden shafts and the echoing shouts

Of the chase, while coming forth against Leto was powerful

Luck-bringing Hermes, and there opposing Hephaestus

Came the god of the great deep-swirling river,

Called Xanthus by the immortals, Scamander by men.

So gods advanced to meet gods.² But Achilles had interest

In none but Priam’s son Hector, with whose blood

He most lusted to glut the battling Ares, him

Of the tough hide shield. Host-urging Apollo, however,

Inspired great strength in Aeneas and sent him to face

The raging son of Peleus. Assuming the form

And voice of Priam’s son Lycaon, Apollo,

Son of Zeus, spoke thus to the counselor of Trojans:

“Aeneas, where now are the brags you made to the princes

Of Troy when you, over wine, declared yourself ready

To fight man to man with Peleus’ son Achilles?”

To which Aeneas: “Lycaon, why would you tell me

This way to fight face to face, against my will,

With haughty Achilles? Not that it would be

My first encounter with him, since once already

He put me to flight with his spear, driving me down

From Mount Ida where he had come for our cattle the time

He sacked and laid waste Lyrnessus and Pedasus both.

That time Zeus saved me by giving me strength and putting

Great speed in my legs. Else I would surely have died

At the hands of Achilles and those of Athena, who went

Before him bearing the light of victory and bidding him

Kill with his bronze-headed spear both Trojans and Leleges.^bm

May no man, then, fight face to face with Achilles,

For always beside him a god goes, warding off death.

And even unaided his spear flies very straight,

Nor does it stop save deep in the flesh of some mortal.

Still, were God to give us an equal chance

In man-to-man combat, he would not easily beat me,

Not though he claims to be made of solid bronze!”

Then lord Apollo, son of Zeus, replied:

“Heroic Aeneas, why don’t you also invoke

The gods everlasting? After all, men say Aphrodite,

Daughter of Zeus, is your mother, while surely Achilles

Was born of a lesser goddess. Remember, your mother

Is Zeus’s own daughter, his the sea-ancient’s child.

But on! Charge with your unyielding bronze straight at him,

And don’t be turned aside by any insults

Or threats from him.”

So saying, he breathed great power

Into Aeneas, and he, the people’s shepherd,

Strode out through the front line of fighters, his bronze helmet flashing.

Nor was the son of Anchises unnoticed by Hera

As out he went through the moil of men to face

The son of Peleus. Calling her friends about her,

The goddess spoke thus:

“Poseidon, Athena, you two

Consider what we should do now. Here comes Aeneas,

Flaming in bronze, set on by Phoebus Apollo

To face Achilles in fight. But come, let us

Turn him back at once, or else let one of us stand

By the side of Achilles and give him great power too.

Nor should we allow his spirit to fail at all,

That he may know beyond doubt that we who love him

Are the best of immortals, while those who have hitherto warded

Defeat from the Trojans are deities worthless as wind.

Here we have come from Olympus to mix in this melee

And keep Achilles safe all this day long,

Though afterward he shall suffer whatever Fate spun

For him with the thread of his life on the day his mother

Bore him. But if he fails to learn all this

From heaven itself, he may be unduly afraid

When some god confronts him in battle. For hard indeed

Are the gods to look upon when they appear

In their own true forms.”

And Poseidon, creator of earthquakes,

Replied: “Hera, don’t rage beyond what is wise.

It hardly becomes you. I myself would not wish

To hurl gods together in hate, and anyway we

Are much too strong for those others. Rather, let us

Go apart from the battle to where we can sit down and watch,

And war shall be for mortals. However, if Ares

Or Phoebus Apollo should start anything, or should they

Hold back Achilles and keep him from fighting, then quickly

Fierce war shall come from us too. And very soon then,

I believe, those others shall leave the battle and join

The gods on Olympus, defeated by our forceful hands!”

So saying, Poseidon, god with the blue-black hair,

Led the way straight to the mighty bulwark of earth

That the Trojans and Pallas Athena had heaped up high

For godlike Heracles, that he might retreat behind it

Whenever the huge sea-monster, sent by Poseidon

To lay waste the land of the Trojans, drove him back

From the beach to the plain. There the gods with Poseidon

Sat down and wreathed their shoulders with cloud that could not

Be dispelled, while opposite them the gods backing Trojans

Sat down on the brow of Callicolone round you,

O daring Apollo, and Ares, taker of towns.

Thus both parties sat in council, both uneager

To enter the sorrowful conflict, though high-throned Zeus

Had bidden them to.

Meanwhile, the whole plain was aflame

With bronze-flashing men and horses, and earth resounded

And rang beneath the tumultuous beat of their feet

As they charged toward each other. But now their two greatest

champions

Came out in the space between the two armies, spoiling

To battle each other, Aeneas, son of Anchises,

And noble Achilles. First came Aeneas, defiantly

Tossing his heavy-helmeted head, gripping

His gallant shield close in front of his chest, and brandishing

Fiercely his bronze-headed spear. Against him Achilles,

Son of Peleus, came charging on like a lion,

A ravenous beast that all the men of a village

Have come out anxious to kill. At first he pays them

No heed, but goes his way till one of the fast

And lusty young spearmen sinks a lance in his flesh.

Then with a jaw-splitting roar he gathers himself

To charge, and foam forms all round his fangs, while in him

His great heart groans. Lashing his ribs and flanks

With his tail, he works himself up for the fight, then charges

Straight on in his fiery-eyed fury, careless of whether

He kill or be killed there in the front line of spearmen.

So now Achilles was driven on by his fury

And warrior’s pride to go out and face great Aeneas.

And when they had come sufficiently near each other,

Fast-footed royal Achilles spoke to him thus:

“Tell me, Aeneas, why have you come out so far

From the ranks to stand and confront me? Can it be

That your heart is ambitious and fills you with hope of soon

Replacing King Priam as lord of the horse-taming Trojans?

What folly! for even if you should kill and strip me,

Priam would not give the kingship to you. King Priam

Has sons of his own, and his mind is sound, not silly!

Or have the Trojans laid out an estate for you

Greater than any other, acres of orchard

And plowland for you to enjoy—if you should happen

To kill me, that is. Not easy, I think, you’ll find

That assignment. For surely I now recall a day

Some time ago when I routed you with my spear.

Don’t you remember, Aeneas, when you were alone

And I made you leave your cattle and hurtle headlong

Down the slopes of Mount Ida? Not so much as one little look

Did you cast behind you that day as you ran. From there

You fled to Lyrnessus, which I attacked with the help

Of Athena and Father Zeus and sacked it completely,

Leading the women off no longer free.

Zeus and the other gods saved you that time, but not

This day, I believe, will they save you again, as you

Undoubtedly think they will. So I myself warn you

Not to confront me, but lose yourself in the crowd

Before you suffer disaster. Once it occurs,

It will be too late for you not to play the fool!”

And Aeneas answered him, saying: “Son of Peleus,

Don’t think to scare me with words, as if I were some

Little boy, since I am at least the equal of you

When it comes to hurling insults. We both know who

Each other is with regard to parents and lineage,

For though neither one of us ever laid eyes on the other’s

Dear parents, we’ve both heard the stories which mortal men

Have passed down from days gone by. Men say you’re the son

Of matchless Peleus and that your mother is Thetis,

She of the beautiful braids, a child of the brine.

But I claim descent from courageous Anchises, my father,

And Aphrodite herself!³ And of these two couples,

One or the other shall this day mourn a dear son,

For I don’t think we two shall part and leave this struggle

With nothing exchanged but infantile prattle. But if

You really would hear who I am, listen and learn

What many know already First of all

Cloud-gathering Zeus begot Dardanus, who founded Dardania

Before sacred Ilium ever went up in the plain

As a city for mortals, who lived at that time on the slopes

Of well-watered Ida. And Dardanus too had a son,

King Erichthonius, one who lived to become

The richest man in the world. He had a herd

Of three thousand horses that grazed in the low-lying meadows,

Spirited mares with fine little colts beside them.

With these as they grazed the North Wind fell deeply in love,

And changing himself to a glossy-maned black stallion

He sired twelve colts on them. These, when they galloped

The grain-giving earth, could cross in their sport a field

Of ripe barley without so much as disturbing a kernel,

And when they cavorted across the broad back of the brine,

They would skim the high waves that break on the gray salt-sea.

Erichthonius, then, begot Tros, King of the Trojans,

And Tros had three matchless sons—Assaracus, Ilus,

And godlike Ganymede,^bn the best-looking boy ever born,

So handsome the gods caught him up to Olympus, that he

Might live with them there and be the cupbearer of Zeus.

And Ilus in turn begot peerless Laomedon, father

Of Priam, Tithonus, Clytius, Lampus, and Hicetaon,

Scion of Ares. And Assaracus’ son was Capys,

Who sired Anchises, who next begot me, and Priam

Begot Prince Hector. Such is my lineage, Achilles,

And the blood I claim to be of.

“But as for prowess

In battle, Zeus gives it or takes it away as he,

The almighty, sees fit. So come, let us no longer

Stand here in the midst of battle prating like two

Little boys. There is surely no lack of insults for either

Of us to mouth, vile things so many they’d sink

A ship of two hundred oars. For the tongue of man

Is a glib and versatile organ, and from it come many

And various words, whose range of expression is wide

In every direction. And the sort of words a man says

Is the sort he hears in return. But what makes the two of us

Wrangle and nag like a couple of spiteful women,

Who having aroused in each other heart-eating hatred

Go out in the street and spit harsh words back and forth,

As many false as true, since hateful rage

Does the talking? For since I am eager for combat, you’ll not

Turn me back with mere words before we have battled with bronze

Man to man. Come then, let us at once have a taste

Of each other’s spear-points!”

He spoke, and drove his huge lance

Into Achilles’ dread and marvelous shield,

Which loudly cried out about the bronze point of the weapon.

Achilles, gripped with quick terror, shoved the shield out

With his powerful hand, away from his flesh, for he thought

The long-shadowing spear of great-hearted Aeneas would easily

Pierce it—childish fool that he was not to know

In his mind and heart that the glorious gifts of the gods

Will not easily break or give way before the onslaught

Of mortals. Nor did the huge lance of fiery Aeneas

Tear through the shield, for the gold, the god’s gift, held it back.

Though he drove it clean through the first two layers, there remained

Three other folds, for the great limping god had hammered

Together five layers in all, two bronze, two tin,

And between them a gold one, in which the ashen spear stopped.

Then great Achilles let fly his long-shadowing spear

And struck the round shield of Aeneas not far from the rim

Where the bronze and backing of bull’s-hide were thinnest. And the

shield

Gave out a strident shriek as through it tore

The shaft of Pelian ash. Then Aeneas was gripped

With panic, and cringing he held the shield up, away

From his flesh, as the spear shot over his back and stilled

Its force in the ground, though it split apart two circles

Of the Trojan’s man-guarding shield. Having thus escaped

The long lance, Aeneas stood up, and the sight of that shaft

So close to his flesh filled his bright eyes with measureless

Panic and pain. But Achilles whipped out his keen blade

And charged down upon him, ferociously screaming his war-cry,

And mighty Aeneas picked up a huge stone, one

That no two men of today could even lift

But that he picked up with one hand and easily threw.

Then Aeneas would surely have struck with the stone the helmet

Or life-saving shield of charging Achilles, who then

Would have closed with him and taken his life with the sword,

If Poseidon had not been keeping sharp watch. At once

He spoke thus mid the gods everlasting:

“Truly my grief

Is great for high-souled Aeneas, who soon indeed

Shall go down to Hades’ halls, killed by Achilles

For heeding the word of far-working Apollo—childish

Fool that he was! For Apollo will not keep sad death

From him for a moment. But why should that innocent man

Suffer woes that belong to others, he who has always

Given such pleasing gifts to the sky-ruling gods?

So come, let us save him from death, for Zeus himself

Will be angry if now Achilles cuts the man down.

It is surely already decreed that Aeneas shall outlive

The war, so that Dardanus’ seed may not die and his line

Disappear, since Zeus adored Dardanus more than he did

Any other child he had by a mortal woman.

For now Cronos’ son has come to despise the house

Of Priam, and surely the mighty Aeneas shall soon rule

The Trojans, and after him the sons of his sons,

Great princes yet to be born.”⁴

Then heifer-eyed Hera,

Queen of the gods, replied: “O shaker of shores,

You must decide for yourself concerning Aeneas,

Whether you wish to save him or let him be killed,

Despite his great prowess, by Peleus’ son Achilles.

For we two, Pallas Athena and I, have sworn

Very numerous oaths in the presence of all the immortals

That we would never keep from the Trojans the hard day

Of doom, not even when Troy shall burn with furious

Fire lit by the warlike sons of Achaeans.”

When Poseidon heard this, he went alone through the fight

Mid a tumult of hurtling spears till he came to Aeneas

And famous Achilles. Quickly he covered the eyes

Of Peleus’ son with mist, then drew from the shield

Of Aeneas the sharp ashen spear. This he laid down

At the feet of Achilles, but Aeneas he swept from the ground

And sent him vaulting high over the heads of numerous

Heroes and horses till finally he came down

Far out on the edge of the charge-churned chaos of battle

Just where the Caucones were arming themselves for the fray.

There earthquake-making Poseidon drew close to his side,

And his words came winged with warning:

“Aeneas, what god

Commands you to fight in such blind rage with the high-hearted

Son of Peleus, who is both stronger than you

And dearer to the immortals? Rather, give ground

Whenever you meet him, or you before your time

Will enter the house of Hades. But after Achilles

Collides with his own dark fate and dies, then summon

Your courage to fight their greatest champions, for none

Of the other Achaeans will ever be able to kill you.”

So saying, he left him there, having told him all.

Then at once he dispelled the marvelous mist from the eyes

Of Achilles, who stared hard about him, and much amazed

Spoke thus to his own great heart:

“A miracle, surely!

This wonder my eyes behold. Here lies my spear

On the ground, yet he at whom I so eagerly hurled it

Is nowhere in sight. Truly it seems that Aeneas

Is dear indeed to the immortal gods, though I

Thought his claims were idle and empty. Well, let him go.

He’s so glad to be still alive he’ll hardly have heart

To try me again. But now I will call to the Danaans,

Lovers of fight, then go forth myself and test

The mettle of other Trojans.”

With this, he ran

Down the ranks calling out to each man: “No longer, 0 noble

Achaeans, stand off from the Trojans, but come, let man

Attack man, and all of you fight like fury! Very hard

It is for me, no matter how mighty, to deal

With so many foes and fight with them all. Even Ares,

Immortal god though he is, could never hurl back

A charge so galloping fierce as this of the Trojans,

Nor could Athena—not that I intend

To be idle, so long as I’ve hands and feet and the strength

To use them in battle. Straight through their front rank I will charge,

Nor do I believe any Trojan will greatly rejoice

To find himself close to my spear.”

Thus he encouraged

The Danaan troops, while glorious Hector called out

To the Trojans, saying that he would go face Achilles:

“You high-hearted Trojans, don’t let Peleus’ son scare you.

With words I too could battle even the gods,

Though with a spear it would be much harder, since they

Are far stronger than we. But Achilles will be doing well

To fulfill half of his boast. The rest he will leave

Undone. Against him now I will go, though his hands

Are like flame—I say though his hands are like flame, and his heart

Like gleaming iron!”

So saying, he urged them on,

And the Trojans faced the Achaeans and raised their spears

To charge. Then both armies clashed in furious fight

And shrill war-cries went up. But Phoebus Apollo

Came close to Hector and said: “Hector, don’t think

For a moment of singly facing Achilles, but wait

For him in the ranks in the midst of roaring conflict,

Or surely he’ll cut you down with his spear, or close

And use his sword.”

He spoke, and Hector, terrified,

Shrank back among his men, having heard the voice

Of a god.

But Achilles, his heart clad in valor, charged

Mid the Trojans, screaming his awesome war-cry,⁵ and first

He cut down Iphition, the excellent son of Otrynteus

And leader of many men. A Naiad nymph

Had borne him to King Otrynteus, taker of towns,

At the foot of Mount Tmolus in the opulent land

Of Hyda. Him, as he charged straight on, Prince Achilles

Caught with his spear full on the head and split

His skull in two. He fell with a thunderous crash,

And over his corpse Achilles exulted, crying:

“How very low you lie now, 0 son of Otrynteus,

Most terrifying of men. Right here is the place

Of your death, though you were born on the huge estate

Of your fathers by Lake Gygaea near fish-teeming Hyllus

And eddying Hermus.”

Such was his boast, but shadow

Eclipsed the eyes of Iphition, and quickly the rims

Of Achaean chariots cut him to shreds, right

Where he fell in the front of the war-clash, and fiercely Achilles

Went on to slaughter Demoleon, son of Antenor.

That excellent bulwark in battle Achilles stabbed

In the temple, easily piercing his bronze-cheeked helmet.

On through the bronze and bone beneath tore the point

And spattered the helmet inside with the warrior’s brains,

Thus stopping Demoleon’s furious charge. Then,

As Hippodamas sprang from his car and fled before him,

He thrust his spear deep into his back. And as

He gasped out his life he roared like a bull that young men

Drag bellowing in as an offering for Helice’s lord

Poseidon, for bull’s blood pleases the Earthshaker most.

Even so Hippodamas bellowed as his proud spirit

Took leave of his bones. Then Achilles charged on with his spear

In pursuit of Prince Polydorus, son of Priam.

His father had strictly forbidden his entering the battle,

For he was the youngest and dearest of all his sons,

And the fastest of all as a runner. But now, showing off

His fleetness of foot like a child, he dashed here and there

Through the front-fighting ranks till he was deprived of his life.

For him Achilles, fast on his feet as any,

Struck with a cast of his spear in the small of the back

As he darted by, squarely striking him where

The gold clasps of his war-belt joined and the halves of his breastplate

Met. The spear-point tore its way through and emerged

By the navel, and round him a cloud of blackness closed in,

As he sank to the ground clutching his guts with both hands.

But when Prince Hector saw Polydorus his brother

Clutching his guts and sinking to earth, his own eyes

Dimmed with tears, nor could he bear any longer

To range apart, but out he strode to encounter

Achilles, brandishing his keen spear that flashed

Like a flame. When Achilles saw him, he poised his own weapon,

Then challenged him thus:

“Now near is the man who most

Of all men has caused my heart pain, the man who murdered

My cherished comrade, and now no longer shall we two

Shrink from each other down lanes of hard-fighting men.”

He spoke, then savagely scowling at Hector, said:

“Come nearer, that all the sooner you may be bound

In the bonds of destruction!”

But Hector, his bronze helmet flashing,

Boldly answered him thus: “O son of Peleus,

Don’t think to scare me with words, as if I were some

Little boy, since I am at least the equal of you

When it comes to hurling insults. Also, I know

Very well how able you are with a spear, and that I

Am not nearly so strong. Yet truly the outcome of this fight

Lies in the lap of the gods eternal, who may

Allow me, though weaker, to take your life with a spear-cast,

Since my weapon too has proved killing-keen before!”

So saying, he drew back his spear and threw, but Athena,

Breathing lightly, blew it back from Achilles

So that it returned to Prince Hector and fell on the ground

At his feet. Then savagely Peleus’ son sprang at him,

Screaming his terrible war-cry and eager to kill.

But Apollo caught Hector up, with all the ease

Of a god, and wrapped him in cloud.⁶ Three times fast Achilles

Charged and thrust his spear into the mist, but when

The fourth time he rushed like a demon upon him, he cried

A chilling and awesome cry and spoke to Hector

In these winged words:

“Again, you dog, you’ve managed

To get away with your life, though this time just barely!

Once more you have Phoebus Apollo to thank, to whom

You must be careful to pray before you come

Within even the sound of hurtling spears. Well,

Believe me, I’ll finish you yet—the next time we meet,

If only some god will also look out for me.

Right now I’ll take my rage out on your friends, whomever

I happen to come on!”

So saying, he thrust his spear

Through the neck of Dryops, who fell at his feet. Leaving

Him there, Achilles went on to put out of action

Demuchus, Philetor’s son, a big man and brave,

First wounding his knee with a spear-cast, then ending his life

With a slash of his lengthy sword. Next he charged down

On Laogonus and Dardanus, sons of Bias, and knocked them

Both from their chariot, taking one’s life with a cast

Of his spear and killing the other in close with his sword.

Then Alastor’s son Tros—he reached for the knees of Achilles,

Pleading with him to take him alive, to pity

A man the same age as himself and not cut him off

So young, fool that he was not to know that with him

There would be no heeding, that there was nothing sweet-tempered

Or mild in Achilles, but only ferocious heart—

Tros tried to hug the man’s knees, jabbering a prayer

To be spared, but Achilles thrust his sword in at the liver,

Which slipped from the wound as the dark blood quickly welled out

And slithered down to drip from his chest. Soon all

Became dark and he fainted. And on went Achilles to stab

His bronze spear-point from ear to ear through Mulius’ skull,

And then to strike Echeclus full on the head

With his dark-hilted sword, whereat the whole blade was left smoking

With blood, as purple death came down on his eyes

And powerful fate embraced him. Next, he jabbed

His bronze-pointed spear through the arm of Deucalion, right

Where the tendons join at the elbow, and he stood there

With his arm too heavy to lift, awaiting the death

Coming on, and Achilles, whipping his sword through the neck

Of the warrior, swept his helmeted head far away,

Causing marrow to spurt from his spine and his corpse to lie

Stretched out on the ground. On he charged in pursuit

Of Peires’ flawless son Rhigmus, a warrior there

From fertile Thrace. Him he pierced deep in the belly,

And down he pitched from his car. And as Areïthous,

Driving for Rhigmus, wheeled the horses around,

Achilles thrust his keen lance through his back and hurled him

To earth. At once the horses panicked and ran.

As when through the deep ravines of a drought-stricken mountain

A god-sustained blaze wildly sweeps, and the thick forest burns

As the driving wind wreathes all in whirling flame,

So now Achilles raged everywhere with his spear,

Charging on like a demon, constantly pressing hard

On the foe and cutting them down in such numbers that the black

earth

Ran with Trojan blood. And like a pair

Of broad-browed, loud-lowing bulls that some farmer yokes

To tread out white barley strewn on his firm threshing-floor,

And quickly their hooves do the husking, even so the solid-hoofed

Horses of great-souled Achilles trampled on corpses

And shields. And the axle below and handrails above

Were all splashed and bespattered with blood from the battering

hooves

Of the horses and metal rims of the wheels, as onward

Achilles pressed in pursuit of glory, soiling

His unconquered hands with the filth of horrible slaughter.