Clash In Arms Of The Achaians And Trojans–Iliad, XVII, 426
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Not the sea-wave so bellows abroad when it bursts upon shingle,
Whipped from the sea’s deeps up by the terrible blast of the Northwind;
Nay, nor is ever the roar of the fierce fire’s rush so arousing,
Down along mountain-glades, when it surges to kindle a woodland;
Nay, nor so tonant thunders the stress of the gale in the oak-trees’
Foliage-tresses high, when it rages to raveing its utmost;
As rose then stupendous the Trojan’s cry and Achaians’,
Dread upshouting as one when together they clashed in the conflict.