clashed The bossy bucklers, and the battle-din Was loud; then rose the mingled shouts and groans Of those who slew and those who fell; the earth Ran with their blood. As when the winter streams Rush down the mountain-sides, and fill, below, With their swift waters, poured from gushing springs, Some hollow vale, the shepherd on the heights Hears the far roar—such was the mingled din That rose from the great armies when they met.
Then first Antilochus, advancing, struck The Trojan champion Echepolus down, Son of Thalysius, fighting in the van. He smote him on the helmet’s cone, where streamed The horse-hair plume. The brazen javelin stood Fixed in his forehead, piercing through the bone, And darkness gathered o’er his eyes. He fell As falls a tower before some stubborn siege. Then Elephenor, son of Chalcodon, Prince of the brave Abrantes, by the foot Seized the slain chieftain, dragging him beyond The reach of darts, to strip him of his arms; Yet dropped him soon, for brave Agenor saw, And, as he stooped to drag the body, hurled His brazen spear and pierced the uncovered side Seen underneath the shield. At once his limbs Relaxed their hold, and straight the spirit fled. Then furious was the struggle of the Greeks And Trojans o’er the slain; they sprang like wolves Upon each other, and man slaughtered man.