Book XVIII

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Then the goddess Minerva spread a golden cloud around the head of Achilles, and she kindled in it a bright flame that streamed upward to the sky. And the hero went out beyond the wall, and stood beside the trench, and he shouted in a voice loud as a trumpet sound,--a shout that carried dismay into the ranks of the Trojans.

The hearts of all who heard that brazen voice Were troubled, and their steeds with flowing manes Turned backward with the chariots,--such the dread Of coming slaughter. . . . . . . . . Thrice o'er the trench Achilles shouted; thrice The men of Troy and their renowned allies Fell into wild disorder. Then there died, Entangled midst the chariots, and transfixed By their own spears, twelve of their bravest chiefs. The Greeks bore off Patroclus from the field With eager haste, and placed him on a bier, And there the friends that loved him gathered round Lamenting.

BRYANT, _Iliad_,