"The dreadful clamour rose To such a height, as not the sea, when up the North-spirit blows Her raging billows, bellows so against the beaten shore; Nor such a rustling keeps a fire, driven with violent blore Through woods that grow against a hill; nor so the fervent strokes Of almost-bursting winds resound against a grove of oaks; As did the clamour of these hosts, when both the battles clos’d."
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https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/The_Iliads_of_Homer_(George_Chapman)
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The Iliads of Homer (George Chapman)
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