Ćsepus, Granicus, with mingled force, And Xanthus foaming from his fruitful source; And gulfy Simois, rolling to the main(224) Helmets, and shields, and godlike heroes slain: These, turn'd by Phoebus from their wonted ways, Deluged the rampire nine continual days; The weight of waters saps the yielding wall, And to the sea the floating bulwarks fall. Incessant cataracts the Thunderer pours, And half the skies descend in sluicy showers. The god of ocean, marching stern before, With his huge trident wounds the trembling shore, Vast stones and piles from their foundation heaves, And whelms the smoky ruin in the waves. Now smooth'd with sand, and levell'd by the flood, No fragment tells where once the wonder stood; In their old bounds the rivers roll again, Shine 'twixt the hills, or wander o'er the plain.(225) But this the gods in later times perform; As yet the bulwark stood, and braved the storm; The strokes yet echoed of contending powers; War thunder'd at the gates, and blood distain'd the towers. Smote by the arm of Jove with dire dismay, Close by their hollow ships the Grecians lay: Hector's approach in every wind they hear, And Hector's fury every moment fear. He, like a whirlwind, toss'd the scattering throng, Mingled the troops, and drove the field along. So 'midst the dogs and hunters' daring bands, Fierce of his might, a boar or lion stands; Arm'd foes around a dreadful circle form, And hissing javelins rain an iron storm: His powers untamed, their bold assault defy, And where he turns the rout disperse or die: He foams, he glares, he bounds against them all, And if he falls, his courage makes him fall. With equal rage encompass'd Hector glows; Exhorts his armies, and the trenches shows. The panting steeds impatient fury breathe, And snort and tremble at the gulf beneath; Just at the brink they neigh, and paw the ground, And the turf trembles, and the skies resound. Eager