He spake; and on the shoulders of his steeds He laid the lash, and urged them toward the foe, And cheered the Trojans on. They joined their shouts To his, and charged with all their steeds and cars; And fearful was the din. Apollo marched Before them, treading down with mighty feet The banks of the deep ditch, and casting them Back to the middle, till a causey rose, Broad, and of length like that to which a spear Reaches when thrown by one who tries his strength. O’er this the Trojans poured into the camp By squadrons, with Apollo still in front, Holding the marvellous aegis. He with ease O’erthrew the rampart. As a boy at play Among the sea-shore sands in childish sport Scatters with feet and hands the little mounds He reared, thus didst thou cause the mighty work, O archer Phoebus, which the Greeks had reared With so much toil, to crumble. Thou didst fill Their hearts with eager thoughts of flight, till, hemmed Between the assailants and their ships, they stopped And bade each other stand, and raised their hands To all the gods, and offered vows aloud.