His horses wild with fright. As when, among The deep dells of an arid mountain-side, A great fire burns its way, and the thick wood Before it is consumed, and shifting winds Hither and thither sweep the flames, so ranged Achilles in his fury through the field From side to side, and everywhere o’ertook His victims, and the earth ran dark with blood.

As when a yeoman underneath the yoke Brings his broad-fronted oxen to tread out White barley on the level threshing-floor, The sheaves are quickly trodden small beneath The heavy footsteps of the bellowing beasts, So did the firm-paced coursers, which the son Of Peleus guided, trample with their feet Bucklers and corpses, while beneath the car Blood steeped the axle, and the chariot-seat Dripped on its rim with blood, that from below Was splashed upon them by the horses’ hoofs And by the chariot-wheels. Such havoc made Pelides in his ardor for renown, Till his invincible hands were foul with blood.