He lashes on; and urges o'er the dead.
Their fetlocks run with blood; and, when they bound,
The gore and gathering dust are dashed around.
Thamyris and Pholus, masters of the war,
He killed at hand, but Sthenelus afar:
From far the sons of Imbrasus he slew,
Glaucus and Lades, of the Lycian crew—
Both taught to fight on foot, in battle joined,
Or mount the courser that outstrips the wind.
Meantime Eumedes, vaunting in the field,