The Iliads of Homer. Homer

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       With such a confluence of streams, that on the mountain grounds

       Far off, in frighted shepherds' ears, the bustling noise rebounds:

       So grew their conflicts, and so show'd their scuffling to the ear,

       With flight and clamour still commix'd, and all effects of fear.

       And first renown'd Antilochus slew (fighting, in the face

       Of all Achaia's foremost bands, with an undaunted grace)

       Echepolus Thalysiades; he was an arméd man;

       Whom on his hair-plum'd helmet's crest the dart first smote, then

       ran

       Into his forehead, and there stuck; the steel pile making way

       Quite through his skull; a hasty night shut up his latest day.

       His fall was like a fight-rac'd tow'r; like which lying there

       dispread,

       King Elephenor (who was son to Chalcodon, and led

       The valiant Abants) covetous that he might first possess

       His arms, laid hands upon his feet, and hal'd him from the press

       Of darts and jav'lins hurl'd at him. The action of the king

       When great-in-heart Agenor saw, he made his jav'lin sing

       To th' others' labour; and along as he the trunk did wrest,

       His side (at which he bore his shield) in bowing of his breast

       Lay naked, and receiv'd the lance, that made him lose his hold

       And life together; which, in hope of that he lost, he sold,

       But for his sake the fight grew fierce, the Trojans and their foes

       Like wolves on one another rush'd, and man for man it goes.

       The next of name, that serv'd his fate, great Ajax Telamon

       Preferr'd so sadly. He was heir to old Anthemion,

       And deck'd with all the flow'r of youth; the fruit of which yet

       fled,

       Before the honour'd nuptial torch could light him to his bed.

       His name was Simoisius; for, some few years before,

       His mother walking down the hill of Ida, by the shore

       Of silver Simois, to see her parents' flocks, with them

       She, feeling suddenly the pains of child-birth, by the stream

       Of that bright river brought him forth; and so (of Simois)

       They call'd him Simoisius. Sweet was that birth of his

       To his kind parents, and his growth did all their care employ;

       And yet those rites of piety, that should have been his joy

       To pay their honour'd years again in as affectionate sort,

       He could not graciously perform, his sweet life was so short,

       Cut off with mighty Ajax' lance; for, as his spirit put on,

       He strook him at his breast's right pap, quite through his

       shoulder-bone,

       And in the dust of earth he fell, that was the fruitful soil

       Of his friends' hopes; but where he sow'd he buried all his toil.

       And as a poplar shot aloft, set by a river side,

       In moist edge of a mighty fen, his head in curls implied,

       But all his body plain and smooth, to which a wheel-wright puts

       The sharp edge of his shining axe, and his soft timber cuts

       From his in native root, in hope to hew out of his bole

       The fell'ffs, or out-parts of a wheel, that compass in the whole,

       To serve some goodly chariot; but, being big and sad,

       And to be hal'd home through the bogs, the useful hope he had

       Sticks there, and there the goodly plant lies with'ring out his

       grace:

       So lay, by Jove-bred Ajax' hand, Anthemion's forward race,

       Nor could through that vast fen of toils be drawn to serve the ends

       Intended by his body's pow'rs, nor cheer his aged friends.

       But now the gay-arm'd Antiphus, a son of Priam, threw

       His lance at Ajax through the prease; which went by him, and flew

       On Leucus, wise Ulysses' friend; his groin it smote, as fain

       He would have drawn into his spoil the carcass of the slain,

       By which he fell, and that by him; it vex'd Ulysses' heart,

       Who thrust into the face of fight, well-arm'd at ev'ry part,

       Came close, and look'd about to find an object worth his lance;

       Which when the Trojans saw him shake, and he so near advance,

       All shrunk; he threw, and forth it shin'd, nor fell but where it

       fell'd;

       His friend's grief gave it angry pow'r, and deadly way it held

       Upon Democoon, who was sprung of Priam's wanton force,

       Came from Abydus, and was made the master of his horse.

       Through both his temples strook the dart, the wood of one side

       shew'd,

       The pile out of the other look'd, and so the earth he strew'd

       With much sound of his weighty arms. Then back the foremost went;

       Ev'n Hector yielded; then the Greeks gave worthy clamours vent,

       Effecting then their first-dumb pow'rs; some drew the dead, and

       spoil'd,

       Some follow'd, that, in open flight, Troy might confess it foil'd.

       Apollo, angry at the sight, from top of Ilion cried:

       "Turn head, ye well-rode peers of Troy, feed not the Grecians'

       pride,

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