from all sides, and fall on us. Ajax, in all his fury, and
the two sons of Atreus, and the whole array of the Dolopes—even
as one day when the tempest is broken loose, and
wind meets wind—west, and south, and east exulting in
his orient steeds—there is crashing in the woods, and 35
Nereus,[133] in a cloud of foam, is plying his ruthless trident,
and stirring up the sea from its very bottom. Such of
the foe, moreover, as in the darkness of night we had
driven routed through, the gloom—thanks to our stratagem—and
scattered the whole city over, rally again: