“This is the man, O Diomed, and these The steeds, described by Dolon whom we slew. Come, then; put forth thy strength of arm, for ill Doth it become thee to stand idle here, Armed as thou art. Loose thou the steeds; or else Slay thou the men, and leave the steeds to me.”
He spake. The blue-eyed Pallas straightway gave Strength to Tydides, who on every side Dealt slaughter. From the smitten by the sword Rose fearful groans; the ground was red with blood. As when a ravening lion suddenly Springs on a helpless flock of goats or sheep, So fell Tydides on the Thracian band, Till twelve were slain. Whomever Diomed Approached and smote, the sage Ulysses seized, And drew him backward by the feet, that thus The flowing-maned coursers might pass forth Unhindered, nor, by treading on the dead, Be startled; for they yet were new to war. Now when the son of Tydeus reached the king— The thirteenth of his victims—him he slew As he breathed heavily; for on that night A fearful dream, in shape Oenides’ son, Stood o’er him, sent by Pallas. Carefully Ulysses meantime loosed the firm-paced steeds, And, fastening them together, drave them forth, Urging them with his bow: he had not thought To take the showy lash that lay in sight On the fair chariot-seat. In going thence He whistled, as a sign to Diomed, Who lingered, pondering on his next exploit— Whether to seize the chariot where was laid The embroidered armor, dragging it away; Or, lifting it aloft, to bear it thence; Or take more Thracian lives. As thus his thoughts Were busy, Pallas, standing near him, spake:—
“O son of large-souled Tydeus, think betimes Of thy return to where the galleys lie; Else may some god arouse the sons of Troy, And thou be forced to reach the ships by flight.”