betrayed,470
Tydides red with many a death a waste of nothing made,
And led those fiery steeds to camp ere ever they might have
One mouthful of the Trojan grass, or drink of Xanthus' wave.
And lo again, where Troilus is fleeing weaponless,
Unhappy youth, and all too weak to bear Achilles' stress,
By his own horses, fallen aback, at empty chariot borne,
Yet holding on the reins thereof; his neck, his tresses torn
O'er face of earth, his wrested spear a-writing in the dust.
Meanwhile were faring to the fane of Pallas little just
The wives of Troy with scattered hair, bearing the gown refused,480
Sad they and suppliant, whose own hands their very bosoms bruised,
While fixed, averse, the Goddess kept her eyes upon the ground.
Thrice had Achilles Hector dragged the walls of Troy around,
And o'er his body, reft of soul, was chaffering now for gold.
Deep groaned Æneas from his heart in such wise to behold
The car, the spoils, the very corpse of him, his fellow dead,
To see the hands of Priam there all weaponless outspread.
Yea, thrust amidst Achæan lords, his very self he knew;
The Eastland hosts he saw, and arms of Memnon black of hue.
There mad Penthesilea leads the maids of moony shield,490
The Amazons, and burns amidst the thousands of the field,
And with her naked breast thrust out above the golden girth,
The warrior maid hath heart to meet the warriors of the earth.