The Iliad 14.393–407

driven up from the deep by the dread blast of the North Wind, nor so loud is the roar of blazing fire in the glades of a nuountain when it leapeth to burn the forest, nor doth the wind shriek so loud amid the high crests of the oaks—the wind that roareth the loudest in its rage— as then was the cry of Trojans and Achaeans, shouting in terrible wise as they leapt upon each other. one of his shield and one of his silver-studded sword—were stretched across his breast; and they guarded his tender flesh. And Hector waxed wroth for that the swift shaft had flown vainly from his hand, and back he shrank into the throng of his comrades, avoiding fate. But thereupon as he drew back, great Telamonian Aias smote him with a stone;