O Troy, he prostrate laid the Thracian arms,
Or slew the son of Neptune, doomed to wear
The swan's white plumes; or when, amidst the ranks
In furious battle raging, he the streams185
Did choke with corpses of the slain, and Xanthus
Crept sluggishly along with bloody waves;
Or when he stood as victor in his car,
Plying the reins and dragging in the dust
Great Hector's body and the Trojan state.
So there he stood and filled the spreading shore190