Book VIII

So, high in hope, they sat the whole night through In warlike lines, and many watch-fires blazed. As when in heaven the stars look brightly forth Round the clear-shining moon, while not a breeze Stirs in the depths of air, and all the stars Are seen, and gladness fills the shepherd’s heart, So many fires in sight of Ilium blazed, Lit by the sons of Troy, between the ships And eddying Xanthus: on the plain there shone A thousand; fifty warriors by each fire Sat in its light. Their steeds beside the cars⁠— Champing their oats and their white barley⁠—stood, And waited for the golden morn to rise.