This said, Patroclus to the battle flies; Great Merion follows, and new shouts arise: Shields, helmets rattle, as the warriors close; And thick and heavy sounds the storm of blows. As through the shrilling vale, or mountain ground, The labours of the woodman’s axe resound; Blows following blows are heard re-echoing wide, While crackling forests fall on every side: Thus echoed all the fields with loud alarms, So fell the warriors, and so rung their arms.