depths lie his shining palaces of gold. There the sea-god mounts his chariot, yoking
"Beneath his car the brazen-footed steeds,
Of swiftest flight, with manes of flowing gold.
All clad in gold, the golden lash he grasped
Of curious work, and, mounting on his car,
Skimmed o'er the waves; from all the depths below
Gambolled around the monsters of the deep,
Acknowledging their king; the joyous sea
Parted her waves; swift flew the bounding steeds;
Nor was the brazen axle wet with spray,
When to the ships of Greece their lord they bore." (D.)
He takes the form of the soothsayer Calchas, and in his person rallies the discomfited Greeks, and summons the greater and the lesser Ajax to the rescue. Both feel a sudden accession of new vigour and courage; Ajax Oileus detects the divinity of their visitor, as the seeming Calchas turns to depart. The two chiefs quickly gather round them a phalanx of their comrades.
"Spear close by spear, and shield by shield o'erlaid,
Buckler to buckler pressed, and helm to helm,
And man to man; the horse-hair plumes above,
That nodded on the warriors' glittering crests,
Each other touched, so closely massed they stood.
Backward by many a stalwart hand were drawn
The spears, in act to hurl; their eyes and minds
Turned to the front, and eager for the fray." (D.)
Hector's career is stayed. Ajax the Lesser brings into play his band of Locrian bowmen, of little use in the open field, but good when they are under cover.
"Theirs were not the hearts
To brook th' endurance of the standing fight;
Nor had they brass-bound helms with horse-hair plume,
Nor ample shields they bore, nor ashen spear,
But came to Troy in bows and twisted slings
Of woollen cloth confiding."
The galling storm of their arrows throws confusion
