Pallas appears, and thus her chief commands: "Enough, my son; from further slaughter cease, Regard thy safety, and depart in peace; Haste to the ships, the gotten spoils enjoy, Nor tempt too far the hostile gods of Troy." The voice divine confess'd the martial maid; In haste he mounted, and her word obey'd; The coursers fly before Ulysses' bow, Swift as the wind, and white as winter-snow. Not unobserved they pass'd: the god of light Had watch'd his Troy, and mark'd Minerva's flight, Saw Tydeus' son with heavenly succour bless'd, And vengeful anger fill'd his sacred breast. Swift to the Trojan camp descends the power, And wakes Hippocoon in the morning-hour; (On Rhesus' side accustom'd to attend, A faithful kinsman, and instructive friend;) He rose, and saw the field deform'd with blood, An empty space where late the coursers stood, The yet-warm Thracians panting on the coast; For each he wept, but for his Rhesus most: Now while on Rhesus' name he calls in vain, The gathering tumult spreads o'er all the plain; On heaps the Trojans rush, with wild affright, And wondering view the slaughters of the night. Meanwhile the chiefs, arriving at the shade Where late the spoils of Hector's spy were laid, Ulysses stopp'd; to him Tydides bore The trophy, dropping yet with Dolon's gore: Then mounts again; again their nimbler feet The coursers ply, and thunder towards the fleet. [Illustration: DIOMED AND ULYSSES RETURNING WITH THE SPOILS OF RHESUS.] DIOMED AND ULYSSES RETURNING WITH THE SPOILS OF RHESUS. Old Nestor first perceived the approaching sound, Bespeaking thus the Grecian peers around: "Methinks the noise of trampling steeds I hear, Thickening this way, and gathering on my ear; Perhaps some horses of the Trojan breed (So may, ye gods! my pious hopes succeed) The great Tydides and Ulysses bear, Return'd triumphant with this prize of war. Yet much I fear (ah, may that fear be