Automedon and Alcimus harnessed the horses, set the bits, and drew the reins back to the chariot. Automedon took the whip and sprang up; after him Achilles mounted in full armor, shining like Hyperion. With a loud voice he chided his father's horses: Xanthus and Balius, famed offspring of Podarge — this time when we have done fighting, bring your driver safely back to the Achaean host, and do not leave him dead on the plain as you left Patroclus.
Then fleet Xanthus answered under the yoke — for white-armed Hera had given him human speech — and bowed his head until his mane touched the ground from under the yoke-band. Dread Achilles, he said, we will save you now, but the day of your death is near, and the blame will not be ours. Heaven and hard fate will destroy you. It was not sloth on our part that let the Trojans strip Patroclus; it was the mighty god whom lovely Leto bore who slew him among the foremost and gave Hector the triumph.
We two can run as swiftly as Zephyrus, whom they call the fastest of winds; yet it is your doom to fall by the hand of a man and of a god. When he had spoken, the Erinyes stayed his speech.
Achilles answered in great sadness: "Why, Xanthus, do you foretell my death? You need not. I know well I will fall here, far from my dear father and mother. Still I will not hold back my hand until I have given the Trojans their fill of fighting."
With that, and with a loud cry, he drove his horses to the front.