Took in his hand the showy lash, and leaped Into the seat. Behind him, all equipped For war, Achilles mounted, in a blaze Of arms that dazzled like the sun, and thus Called to his father’s steeds with terrible voice:⁠—

“Xanthus and Balius, whom Podargè bore⁠— A noble stock⁠—I charge you to bring back Into the Grecian camp, the battle done, Him whom ye now are bearing to the field, Nor leave him, as ye left Patroclus, dead.”

Swift-footed Xanthus from beneath the yoke Answered him with bowed head and drooping mane That, flowing through the yoke-ring swept the ground⁠— For Juno gave him then the power of speech:⁠—