Book XX: The Battle of the Gods

Thus, O Pelides, did the sons of Greece,Impatient for the battle, arm themselves,By their beaked ships, around thee. Opposite,Upon a height that rose amidst the plain,The Trojans waited. Meantime JupiterSent Themis from the Olympian summit, ploughedWith dells, to summon all the immortal onesTo council. Forth she went from place to place,Bidding them to the palace halls of Jove.Then none of all the Rivers failed to joinThe assembly, save Oceanus, and noneOf all the Nymphs were absent whose abodeIs in the pleasant groves and river-fountsAnd grassy meadows. When they reached the hallsOf cloud-compelling Jove they sat them downOn shining thrones, divided each from eachBy polished columns, wrought for Father JoveBy Vulcan’s skill. Thus all to Jove’s abodeWere gathered. Neptune had not disobeyedThe call. He left the sea, and took his seatAmong them, and inquired the will of Jove.

“Why, wielder of the lightning, dost thou callThe gods again to council? Do thy plansConcern the Greeks and Trojans? For the warBetween their hosts will be rekindled soon.”

And thus the Cloud-compeller Jove replied:“Thou who dost shake the shores, thou knowest wellThe purpose of my mind, and for whose sakeI call this council. Though so soon to die,They are my care. Yet will I keep my place,Seated upon the Olympian mount, and lookCalmly upon the conflict. All of youDepart, and aid the Trojans or the Greeks,As it may list you. For should Peleus’ sonAlone do battle with the men of Troy,Their squadrons could not stand before the assaultOf the swift-footed warrior for an hour.Beforetime, at the sight of him they fled,O’ercome with fear, and now, when he is rousedTo rage by his companion’s death, I fearLest, though it be against the will of fate,He level with the ground the walls of Troy.”

Saturnius spake, and moved the hosts to joinIn desperate conflict. All the gods went forthTo mingle with the war on different sides.Juno and Pallas hastened to the fleetWith Neptune, he who makes the earth to shake,And Hermes, god of useful arts, and shrewdIn forecast. Vulcan also went with them,Strong and stern-eyed, yet lame, his feeble legsMoving with labor. To the Trojan sideWent crested Mars, Apollo with his locksUnshorn, Diana mighty with the bow,Latona, Xanthus, and the queen of smiles,Venus; for while the gods remained apartFrom men, the Achaian host was high in hopeBecause Achilles, who so long had leftThe war, now reappeared upon the field,And terror shook the limbs of every sonOf Troy when he beheld the swift of foot,Pelides, terrible as Mars—that curseOf human-kind—in glittering arms again.But when the dwellers of Olympus joinedThe crowd of mortals, Discord, who makes madThe nations, rose and raged; Minerva raisedHer war-cry from the trench without the wall,And then she shouted from the sounding shore;While, like a cloudy whirlwind, opposite,Moved Mars, and fiercely yelled, encouragingThe men of Troy, as on the city heightsHe stood, or paced with rapid steps the hillBeside the Simoïs, called the Beautiful.

Thus, kindling hate between the hosts, the godsEngaged, and hideous was the strife that roseAmong them. From above, with terrible crash,Thundered the father of the blessed godsAnd mortal men, while Neptune from belowShook the great earth and lofty mountain peaks.Then watery Ida’s heights and very roots,The city of Troy, and the Greek galleys, quaked.Then Pluto, ruler of the nether world,Leaped from his throne in terror, lest the godWho makes the earth to tremble, cleaving itAbove him, should lay bare to gods and menHis horrible abodes, the dismal hauntsWhich even the gods abhor. Such tumult filledThe field of battle when the immortals joinedThe conflict. Then against King Neptune stoodPhoebus Apollo, with his wingèd shafts,And Pallas, goddess of the azure eyes,Confronted Mars. Encountering Juno cameThe sister of Apollo, archer-queenAnd huntress, Dian of the golden bow.The helpful Hermes, god of useful arts,Opposed Latona, and the mighty streamCalled Xanthus by the immortals, but by menScamander, with his eddies strong and deep,Stood face to face with Vulcan in the field.

So warred the gods with gods. Meantime the sonOf Peleus, ranging through the thick of fight,Sought only Hector, Priam’s son, whose bloodHe meant to pour to greedy Mars, the godOf carnage. But Apollo, who impelsWarriors to battle, stirred Aeneas upTo meet Pelides. First he filled his heartWith resolute valor, and then took the voiceOf Priam’s son, Lycaon. In his shapeThus spake Apollo, son of Jupiter:—

“Aeneas, prince of Troy, where now are allThe boasts which thou hast made before the chiefsOf Troy at banquets, that thou yet wouldst meetPelides in the combat hand to hand?”

Aeneas made reply: “Priamides,Why dost thou bid me, when thou knowest meUnwilling, meet in combat Peleus’ son,The mighty among men? It will not beFor the first time if I confront him now.He chased me once from Ida with his spear—Me and my fellows, when he took our herdsAnd laid Lyrnessus waste and Pedasus.But Jove, who gave me strength and nimble feet,Preserved me; I had else been slain by himAnd by Minerva, for the goddess wentBefore him, giving him the victoryAnd moving him to slay the LelegesAnd Trojans with the brazen spear he bore.’Tis not for mortal man to fight the sonOf Peleus, at whose side there ever standsOne of the immortal gods, averting harm.And then his weapon flies right on, nor stopsUntil it bites the flesh. Yet were the godTo weigh the victory in an equal scale,Achilles would not vanquish me with ease,Though he might boast his frame were all of brass.”

Then spake the king Apollo, son of Jove:“Pray, warrior, to the eternal gods. They sayThat Venus gave thee birth, who has her ownFrom Jove. His mother is of lower rankThan thine. Thine is a child of Jove, but hisA daughter of the Ancient of the Deep.Strike at him with that conquering spear of thine,Nor let him scare thee with stern words and threats.”

He said, and breathed into the prince’s breastFresh valor, as, arrayed in glittering arms,He pressed to where the foremost warriors fought;Yet not unseen by Juno’s eye went forthThe son of old Anchises. She convenedThe gods in council, and addressed them thus:—

“Neptune and Pallas, what shall now be done?Consider ye. Aeneas, all arrayedIn glittering arms, is pressing on to meetPelides. Phoebus sends him. Let us joinTo turn him back, or let some one of usStand near Achilles, fill his limbs with strength,Nor let his heart grow faint, but let him seeThat we, the mightiest of the immortals, lookOn him with favor, and that those who striveAmid the war and bloodshed to protectThe sons of Troy are empty boasters all.For this we came from heaven to interposeIn battle, that Achilles may endureNo harm from Trojan hands, although, no doubt,Hereafter he must suffer all that FateSpun for him when his mother brought him forth.But if he hear not, from some heavenly voice,Of this assurance, fear may fall on himWhen, haply, in the battle he shall meetSome god; for when revealed to human sightThe presence of the gods is terrible.”

And then did Neptune, he who shakes the earth,Make answer: “Juno, it becomes thee illTo be so greatly vexed. I cannot wishA contest with the other gods, though weIn power excel them. Rather let us sitApart, where we can look upon the war,And leave it to mankind. And yet if MarsOr Phoebus should begin the fight, or seekTo thwart Achilles or restrain his arm,There will be cause for us to join the strifeIn earnest, and I deem that they full soon,The contest ended, will return to joinThe assembled gods upon the Olympian mount,Forced to withdraw by our all-potent hands.”

So spake the dark-haired god, and led the wayTo the high mound of godlike Hercules,Raised from the earth by Trojans, with the aidOf Pallas, that the hero there might findA refuge when the monster of the deepShould chase him from the sea-beach to the plain.With other gods beside him Neptune thereSat down and drew a shadow, which no sightCould pierce, around their shoulders. Other gods,Upon the hill called Beautiful, were groupedRound thee, Apollo, archer-god, and Mars,Spoiler of cities. On both sides they sat,Devising plans, unwilling to beginThe fierce encounter, though Almighty JoveFrom where he sat in heaven commanded it.

The warriors thronged into the field, which shoneWith brazen armor and caparisonsOf steeds; earth trembled with the sounding trampOf marching squadrons. From the opposing ranksTwo chieftains, each the bravest of his host,Impatient to engage—Anchises’ son,Aeneas, and the great Achilles—came.And first Aeneas, with defiant mienAnd nodding casque, stood forth. He held his shieldBefore him, which he wielded right and left,And shook his brazen spear. On the other side,Pelides hurried toward him, terribleAs is a lion, which the assembled hindsOf a whole village chase and seek to slay,While on he stalks, contemning their assault;But if the arrow of some strong-armed youthHave smitten him, he stands, and gathers allHis strength to spring, with open jaws and teethHalf hid in foam, and uttering fearful growlsFrom his deep chest; he lashes with his tailHis sides and sinewy thighs to rouse himselfTo combat, and then, grimly frowning, leapsTo slay, or by the foremost youths be slain,So sprang Achilles, moved by his bold heartTo meet the brave Aeneas. As the twainDrew near each other, the swift-footed chief,The great Achilles, was the first to speak:—

“Why, O Aeneas, hast thou come so farThrough this vast crowd to seek me? Does thy heartBid thee confront me in the hope to gainThe place which Priam holds, and to bear ruleOver the knights Of Troy? Yet shouldst thou takeMy life, think not that Priam in thy handWill place such large reward. He has his sons,Nor is he fickle, but of stable mind.Or will the Trojans, if thou slayest me,Bestow on thee broad acres, of a soilFruitful exceedingly, and suited wellTo vines or to the plough, which thou mayst tillThat also, as I hope, thou wilt obtainWith difficulty; for, unless I err,I forced thee once to flee before my spear.Dost thou remember, when thou wert aloneAmong thy beeves, I drave thee, running fast,Down Ida’s steeps? Then didst thou never turnTo face me, but didst seek a hiding-placeWithin Lyrnessus, which I also tookAnd wasted, with the aid of Father JoveAnd Pallas. From the town I led awayThe women, never to be free again.Jove and the other gods protected theeThat day. Yet will they not protect thee now,As thou dost vainly hope. Withstand me not,I counsel thee, but hide thyself amongThe crowd before thou suffer harm, for heWho sees past evils only is a fool.”

And then Aeneas answered: “Do not think,Pelides, with such words to frighten me,As if I were a beardless boy. I tooMight use reproach and taunt; but well we knowEach other’s birth and lineage, through reportOf men, although by sight I know not thine,Nor know’st thou mine. They say that thou art sprungFrom Peleus the renowned, and from the nymphOf ocean, fair-haired Thetis, while I boastMy birth from brave Anchises, and can claimVenus as mother. Two of these todayMust weep the death of a beloved son,For we are not to part, I think, nor endThe combat after a few childish words;Yet let me speak, that thou mayst better knowOur lineage, known already far and wide.Jove was the father, cloud-compelling Jove,Of Dardanus, by whom Dardania firstWas peopled, ere our sacred Troy was builtOn the great plain—a populous town; for menDwelt still upon the roots of Ida freshWith many springs. To Dardanus was bornKing Erichthonius, richest in his dayOf mortal men, and in his meadows grazedThree thousand mares, exulting in their broodOf tender foals. Of some of this vast herdBoreas became enamored as they fed.He came to them in likeness of a steedThat wore an azure mane, and they brought forthTwelve foals, which all were females, of such speedThat when they frolicked on the teeming earthThey flew along the topmost ears of wheatAnd broke them not, and when they sported o’erThe mighty bosom of the deep they ranAlong the hoary summits of its waves.To Erichthonius Tros was born, who ruledThe Trojans, and from Tros there sprang three sonsOf high renown—Ilus, Assaracus,And godlike Ganymede, most beautifulOf men; the gods beheld and caught him upTo heaven, so beautiful was he, to pourThe wine to Jove, and ever dwell with them.And Ilus had a son, Laomedon,Of mighty fame, to whom five sons were born,Tithonus, Priam, Lampus, Clytius,And Hicetaon, trained to war by Mars.Assaracus begat my ancestor,Capys, to whom Anchises owes his birth.Anchises is my father; Priam’s sonIs noble Hector. Such I claim to beMy lineage and my blood; but Jove at willGives in large measure, or diminishes,Men’s warlike prowess; and the power of JoveIs over all. But let us talk no moreOf things like these, as if we were but boys,While here in the mid-field we stand betweenThe warring armies. Both of us might castReproaches at each other, many and foul,Such as no galley of a hundred oarsCould bear and float. Men’s tongues are voluble,And endless are the modes of speech, and farExtends from side to side the field of words.Such as thou utterest it will be thy lotTo hear from others. But what profits itFor us to rail and wrangle, in high brawl,Like women angered to the quick, that rushInto the middle of the street and scoldWith furious words, some true and others false,As rage may prompt them? Me thou shalt not moveWith words from my firm purpose ere thou raiseThy arm against me. Let us hasten firstTo prove the temper of our brazen spears.”

He spake, and hurled his brazen spear to smiteThe dreadful shield, a terror in men’s eyes;That mighty buckler rang with the strong blow.Achilles, as it came, held forth his shieldWith nervous arm far from him, for he fearedThat the long javelin of his valiant foeMight pierce it. Idle fear; he had not thoughtThat the bright armor given him by the godsNot easily would yield to force of man.Nor could the rapid spear that left the handOf brave Aeneas pierce the shield; the gold,The gift of Vulcan, stopped it. Through two foldsIt went, but three remained; for Vulcan’s skillFenced with five folds the disk—the outer twoOf brass, the inner two of tin; betweenWas one of gold, and there the brazen spearWas stayed. And then in turn Achilles threwHis ponderous spear, and struck the orbèd shieldBorne by Aeneas near the upper edge,Where thinnest was the brass and thinnest layThe bullock’s hide. The Pelian ash broke through;The buckler crashed; Aeneas, stooping low,Held it above him, terrified; the spear,Tearing both plate and hide of that huge shield,Passed over him, and, eager to go on,Plunged in the earth and stood. He, when he sawThe massive lance which he had just escapedFixed in the earth so near him, stood awhileAs struck with fear, and with despairing looks.Achilles drew his trenchant sword and rushedWith fury on Aeneas, utteringA fearful shout. Aeneas lifted upA stone, a mighty weight, which no two men,As men are now, could raise, yet easilyHe wielded it. Aeneas then, to saveHis threatened life, had smitten with the stoneHis adversary’s buckler or his helm,And with his sword Pelides had laid deadThe Trojan, had not he who shakes the earth,Neptune, beheld him in that perilous hour,And instantly addressed the immortal gods:—

“My heart, ye gods, is heavy for the sakeOf the great-souled Aeneas, who will sinkTo Hades overcome by Peleus’ son.Rash man! He listened to the archer-godApollo, who has now no power to saveThe chief from death. But, guiltless as he is,Why should he suffer evil for the wrongOf others? He has always sought to pleaseWith welcome offerings the gods who dwellIn the broad heaven. Let us withdraw him, then,From this great peril, lest, if he should fallBefore Achilles, haply Saturn’s sonMay be displeased. And ’tis the will of fateThat he escape; that so the Dardan race,Beloved by Jove above all others sprungFrom him and mortal women, may not yetPerish from earth and leave no progeny.For Saturn’s son already holds the houseOf Priam in disfavor, and will makeAeneas ruler o’er the men of Troy,And his sons’ sons shall rule them after him.”

Imperial Juno with large eyes replied:“Determine, Neptune, for thyself, and saveAeneas, or, all blameless as he is,Abandon him to perish by the handOf Peleus’ son, Achilles. We have sworn—Minerva and myself—that never weWould aid in aught the Trojans to escapeTheir day of ruin, though the town of TroySink to the dust in the destroying flames—Flames kindled by the warlike sons of Greece.”

And then did Neptune, shaker of the shores,Go forth into the battle and amidstThe clash of spears, and come where stood the chiefs,Aeneas and his mighty foe, the sonOf Peleus. Instantly he caused to riseA darkness round the eyes of Peleus’ son,And from the buckler of Aeneas drewThe spear with ashen stem and brazen blade,And laid it at Achilles’ feet, and nextHe lifted high Aeneas from the groundAnd bore him thence. O’er many a warrior’s head,And many a harnessed steed, Aeneas flew,Hurled by the god, until he reached the rearOf that fierce battle, where the Caucons stoodArrayed for war. The shaker of the shoresDrew near, and said to him in wingèd words:—

“What god, Aeneas, moved thee to defyMadly the son of Peleus, who in mightExcels thee, and is dearer to the gods?Whenever he encounters thee in armsGive way, lest thou, against the will of fate,Pass down to Hades. When he shall have metHis fate and perished, thou mayst boldly dareTo face the foremost of the enemy;No other of the Greeks shall take thy life.

He spake, and having thus admonished himHe left Aeneas there, and suddenlySwept off the darkness that so thickly roseAround Achilles, who, with sight now clear,Looked forth, and, sighing, said to his great soul:—

“How strange is this! My eyes have seen todayA mighty marvel. Here the spear I flungIs lying on the earth, and him at whomI cast it, in the hope to take his life,I see no longer. Well beloved, no doubt,Is this Aeneas by the immortal gods.Yet that, I thought, was but an empty boastOf his. Well, let him go; I cannot thinkThat he who gladly fled from death will findThe courage to encounter me again.And now will I exhort the Greeks to fightThis battle bravely, while I go to proveThe prowess of the other chiefs of Troy.”

He spake, and, cheering on the soldiery,He sprang into the ranks: “Ye noble Greeks,Avoid no more the Trojans; press right on.“Let each man single out his man, and fightWith eager heart. ’Tis hard for me to chase,With all my warlike might, so many men,And fight with all. Not even Mars, the god,Although immortal, nor Minerva’s self,Could combat with so vast a multitudeUnwearied; yet whatever I can do,With hands and feet and strength, I give my wordNot to decline, or be remiss in aught.I go to range the Trojan files, where none,I think, will gladly stand to meet my spear.”

Such stirring words he uttered, while aloudIllustrious Hector called, encouragingThe men of Troy, and promising to meetAchilles: “Valiant Trojans, do not quailBefore Pelides. In the strife of wordsI too might bear my part against the gods;But harder were the combat with the spear,For greater is their might than ours. The sonOf Peleus cannot make his threatenings good.A part will he perform and part will leaveUndone. I go to wait him; I would goAlthough his hands were like consuming flame—His hands like flame, his strength the strength of steel.”

He spake: the Trojans at his stirring wordLifted their lances, and the adverse hostsJoined battle with a fearful din. Then cameApollo and admonished Hector thus:—

“Hector, encounter not Achilles hereBefore the armies, but amidst the throngAnd tumult of the battle, lest perchanceHe strike thee with the javelin or the sword.”

He spake: the Trojan chief, dismayed to hearThe warning of the god, withdrew amongThe crowded ranks. Meantime Achilles sprangUpon the Trojans with a terrible cry,And slew a leader of the host, the braveIphition, whom a Naiad, at the footOf snowy Tmolus, in the opulent valeOf Hyda, bore to the great conquerorOf towns, Otrynteus. As he came in haste,The noble son of Peleus with his spearSmote him upon the forehead in the midst,And cleft the head in two. He fell; his armsClashed, and Achilles boasted o’er him thus:—

“Son of Otrynteus, terrible in arms,Thou art brought low; thou meetest here thy death,Though thou wert born by the Gygaean lakeWhere lie, by fishy Hyllus and the streamOf eddying Hermus, thy paternal fields.”

Thus boastfully he spake, while darkness cameOver Iphition’s eyes, and underneathThe chariots of the Greeks who foremost foughtHis corse was mangled. Next Achilles smoteAntenor’s son, Demoleon, gallantlyBreasting the onset of the Greeks. He piercedHis temple through the helmet’s brazen cheek;The brass stayed not the blow; the eager spearBrake through the bone, and crushed the brain within,And the brave youth lay dead. Achilles nextStruck down Hippodamas; he pierced his backAs, leaping from his car, the Phrygian fledBefore him. With a moan he breathed awayHis life, as moans a bull when dragged aroundThe altar of the Heliconian kingBy youths on whom the god that shakes the earthLooks down well pleased. With such a moaning soundThe fiery spirit left the Phrygian’s frame.

Then sprang Achilles with his spear to slayThe godlike Polydorus, Priam’s son,Whose father bade him not to join the war,For he was younger than the other sons,And dearest of them all. In speed of footHe had no peer. Yet, with a boyish prideTo show his swiftness, in the foremost ranksHe ranged the field, until he lost his life.Him with a javelin the swift-footed sonOf Peleus smote as he was hurrying by.The weapon pierced the middle of his back,Where, by its golden rings, the belt was claspedAbove the double corselet; the keen bladeCame forth in front; the Trojan with a cryFell forward on his knees, and, bending, claspedHis bowels in his hands. When Hector sawHis brother thus upon the earth, there cameA darkness o’er his eyes, nor could he bearLonger to stand aloof, but, brandishingHis spear, came forward like a rushing flameTo meet the son of Peleus, who beheldAnd bounded toward him, saying boastfully:“So, he is near whose hand hath given my heartIts deepest wound, who slew my dearest friend.No more are we to shun each other now,Timidly stealing through the paths of war.”

And then he said to Hector with a frown:“Draw nearer, that thou mayst the sooner die.”

The crested Hector, undismayed, replied:“Pelides, do not hope with empty wordsTo frighten me, as if I were a boy.Insults and taunts I could with ease return.I know that thou art brave; I know that IIn might am not thy equal; but the eventRests in the laps of the great gods, and theyMay, though I lack the prowess, give thy lifeInto my hands when I shall cast my spear.The weapon that I bear is keen like thine.”

Thus having spoken, brandishing his spear,He sent it forth; but with a gentle breathMinerva turned it from the glorious Greek,And laid it at the noble Hector’s feet.Then did Achilles, resolute to slayHis enemy, rush against him with a shoutOf fury; but Apollo, with such powerAs gods put forth, withdrew him thence, and spreadA darkness round him. Thrice the swift of foot,Achilles, rushed against him with his spear,And thrice he smote the cloud. But when once more,In godlike might, he made the assault, he spakeThese wingèd words of menace and reproach:—

“Hound as thou art, thou hast once more escapedThy death; for it was near. Again the handOf Phoebus rescues thee; to him thy vowsAre made ere thou dost trust thyself amidstThe clash of javelins. I shall meet thee yetAnd end thee utterly, if any godFavor me also. I will now pursueAnd strike the other Trojan warriors down.”

He spake, and in the middle of the neckSmote Dryops with his spear. The Phrygian fellBefore him at his feet. He left him there,And wounding with his spear Philetor’s son,Demuchus, tall and valiant, in the knee,Stayed him until he slew him with his sword.Then from their chariot to the ground he castLaogonus and Dardanus, the sonsOf Bias, piercing with a javelin one,And cutting down the other with his sword.

And Tros, Alastor’s son, who came to himAnd clasped his knees, in hope that he would spareA captive—spare his life, nor slay a youthOf his own age—vain hope! He little knewThat not by prayers Achilles could be moved,Nor was he pitiful, nor mild of mood,But hard of heart—while Tros embraced his kneesAnd passionately sued, Pelides thrustHis sword into his side; the liver cameForth at the wound; the dark blood gushing filledThe Phrygian’s bosom; o’er his eyes there creptA darkness, and his life was at an end.

Approaching Mulius next, Achilles smoteThe warrior at the ear; the brazen pointPassed through the other ear; and then he slewAgenor’s son, Echeclus, letting fallHis heavy-hilted sword upon his headJust in the midst; the blade grew warm with blood,And gloomy death and unrelenting fateDarkened the victim’s eyes. Achilles nextWounded Deucalion, thrusting through his armThe brazen javelin, where the sinews metThat strung the elbow. While with powerless armThe wounded Trojan stood awaiting death,Achilles drave his falchion through his neck.Far flew the head and helm, the marrow flowedFrom out the spine, and stretched upon the groundDeucalion lay. Pelides still went on,O’ertaking Rigmus, the renowned sonOf Peireus, from the fruitful fields of Thrace,And smote him in the stomach with his lance.There hung the weapon fixed; the wounded manFell from the car. At AreïthoüsThe charioteer, who turned his steeds to flee,Achilles sent his murderous lance, and piercedHis back, and dashed him from the car, and leftHis horses wild with fright. As when, amongThe deep dells of an arid mountain-side,A great fire burns its way, and the thick woodBefore it is consumed, and shifting windsHither and thither sweep the flames, so rangedAchilles in his fury through the fieldFrom side to side, and everywhere o’ertookHis victims, and the earth ran dark with blood.

As when a yeoman underneath the yokeBrings his broad-fronted oxen to tread outWhite barley on the level threshing-floor,The sheaves are quickly trodden small beneathThe heavy footsteps of the bellowing beasts,So did the firm-paced coursers, which the sonOf Peleus guided, trample with their feetBucklers and corpses, while beneath the carBlood steeped the axle, and the chariot-seatDripped on its rim with blood, that from belowWas splashed upon them by the horses’ hoofsAnd by the chariot-wheels. Such havoc madePelides in his ardor for renown,Till his invincible hands were foul with blood.