What must we do, Odysseus?—He was not
Laid where we thought him, and our hopes are lost.
Odysseus.
Back to our own ship-rampart at all cost!
The God who gave him victory saves him still.
We cannot force Fortune against her will.
Could we not find Aeneas? Or the bed
Of Paris the accurst, and have his head?
Odysseus.
Go by night searching through these lines of men
For chiefs to kill? 'Twere death and death again.
Diomede.
But to go empty back—what shame 'twill be!—
And not one blow struck home at the enemy!
Odysseus.