Classic Poem

And as when with the West-wind's flawes the sea thrusts up her waves
One after other, thicke and high, upon the groning shores,
First in her selfe lowd (but opposd with banks and Rocks) she rores
And (all her backe in bristles set) spits everie way her fome:
So (after Diomed) instantly the field was overcome
With thicke impressions of the Greekes and all the noise that grew
(Ordring and chearing up their men) from onely leaders flew.
The rest went silently away, you could not heare a voice,
Nor would have thought in all their breasts they had one in their choice--
Their silence uttering their awe of them that them contrould,
Which made ech man keep bright his arms, march, fight still where he should.
The Troyans (like a sort of Ewes pend in a rich man's fold,
Close at his dore till all be milkt, and never baaing hold,
Hearing the bleating of their lambs) did all their wide host fill
With showts and clamors, nor observ'd one voice, one baaing still
But shew'd mixt tongs from many a land of men cald to their aid.