And with their clamor make the air to ring,
And th’ earth whereon they settle to resound;
So when the Achaians went up from the fleet,
And on their march were to the towers of Troy,
The earth resounded loud with hoofs and feet.
But on Scamander’s flowery bank they stray,
In number like the flowers of the field,
Or leaves in spring, or multitude of flies
In some great dairy, round the vessels filled,
Delighted with the milk, dance, fall, and rise.