My fellow warriors, hear! A dream from heaven,
Amid the stillness of the vacant night
Approach’d me, semblance close in stature, bulk,
And air, of noble Nestor. At mine head70
The shadow took his stand, and thus he spake.
Oh son of Atreus the renown’d in arms
And in the race, sleep’st thou? It ill behoves
To sleep all night the man of high employ,
And charged as thou art with a people’s care.75
Now, therefore, mark me well, who, sent from Jove,
Inform thee, that although so far remote,
He yet compassionates and thinks on thee
With kind solicitude. He bids thee arm
Thy universal host; for that the time80
When the Achaians shall at length possess
Wide Ilium, hath arrived. The Gods above
No longer dwell at variance. The requests
Of Juno have prevail’d. Now, wo to Troy
From Jove himself! Her fate is on the wing.85
Charge this on thy remembrance. Thus he spake,
Then vanished suddenly, and I awoke.
Haste therefore, let us arm, if arm we may,[4]
The warlike sons of Greece; but first, myself
Will prove them, recommending instant flight90
With all our ships, and ye throughout the host
Dispersed, shall, next, encourage all to stay.
He ceased, and sat; when in the midst arose
Of highest fame for wisdom, Nestor, King
Of sandy Pylus, who them thus bespake.95
Friends, Counsellors, and Leaders of the Greeks!
Had any meaner Argive told his dream,
We had pronounced it false, and should the more
Have shrunk from battle; but the dream is his
Who boasts himself our highest in command.100
Haste, arm we, if we may, the sons of Greece.
So saying, he left the council; him, at once
The sceptred Chiefs, obedient to his voice,
Arising, follow’d; and the throng began.
As from the hollow rock bees stream abroad,105
And in succession endless seek the fields,
Now clustering, and now scattered far and near,
In spring-time, among all the new-blown flowers,
So they to council swarm’d, troop after troop,
Grecians of every tribe, from camp and fleet110
Assembling orderly o’er all the plain
Beside the shore of Ocean. In the midst
A kindling rumor, messenger of Jove,
Impell’d them, and they went. Loud was the din
Of the assembling thousands; groan’d the earth115
When down they sat, and murmurs ran around.
Nine heralds cried aloud—Will ye restrain
Your clamors, that your heaven-taught Kings may speak?
Scarce were they settled, and the clang had ceased,
When Agamemnon, sovereign o’er them all,120
Sceptre in hand, arose. (That sceptre erst
Vulcan with labor forged, and to the hand
Consign’d it of the King, Saturnian Jove;
Jove to the vanquisher[5] of Ino’s[6] guard,
And he to Pelops; Pelops in his turn,125
To royal Atreus; Atreus at his death
Bequeath’d it to Thyestes rich in flocks,
And rich Thyestes left it to be borne
By Agamemnon, symbol of his right
To empire over Argos and her isles)130
On that he lean’d, and rapid, thus began.[7]
Friends, Grecian Heroes, ministers of Mars!
Ye see me here entangled in the snares
Of unpropitious Jove. He promised once,
And with a nod confirm’d it, that with spoils135
Of Ilium laden, we should hence return;
But now, devising ill, he sends me shamed,
And with diminished numbers, home to Greece.
So stands his sovereign pleasure, who hath laid
The bulwarks of full many a city low,140
And more shall level, matchless in his might.
That such a numerous host of Greeks as we,
Warring with fewer than ourselves, should find
No fruit of all our toil, (and none appears)
Will make us vile with ages yet to come.145
For should we now strike truce, till Greece and Troy
Might number each her own, and were the Greeks
Distributed in bands, ten Greeks in each,
Our banded decads should exceed so far
Their units, that all Troy could not supply150
For every ten, a man, to fill us wine;
So far the Achaians, in my thought, surpass
The native Trojans. But in Troy are those
Who baffle much my purpose; aids derived
From other states, spear-arm’d auxiliars, firm155
In the defence of Ilium’s lofty towers.
Nine years have passed us over, nine long years;
Our ships are rotted, and our tackle marr’d,
And all our wives and little-ones at home
Sit watching our return, while this attempt160
Hangs still in doubt, for which that home we left.
Accept ye then my counsel. Fly we swift
With all our fleet back to our native land,
Hopeless of Troy, not yet to be subdued.
So spake the King, whom all the concourse heard165
With minds in tumult toss’d; all, save the few,
Partners of his intent. Commotion shook
The whole assembly, such as heaves the flood
Of the Icarian Deep, when South and East
Burst forth together from the clouds of Jove.170
And as when vehement the West-wind falls
On standing corn mature, the loaded ears
Innumerable bow before the gale,
So was the council shaken. With a shout
All flew toward the ships; uprais’d, the dust175
Stood o’er them; universal was the cry,
“Now clear the passages, strike down the props,
Set every vessel free, launch, and away!”
Heaven rang with exclamation of the host
All homeward bent, and launching glad the fleet.180
Then baffled Fate had the Achaians seen
Returning premature, but Juno thus,
With admonition quick to Pallas spake.
Unconquer’d daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d!
Ah foul dishonor! Is it thus at last185
That the Achaians on the billows borne,
Shall seek again their country, leaving here,
To be the vaunt of Ilium and her King,
Helen of Argos, in whose cause the Greeks
Have numerous perish’d from their home remote?190
Haste! Seek the mail-arm’d multitude, by force
Detain them of thy soothing speech, ere yet
All launch their oary barks into the flood.
She spake, nor did Minerva not comply,
But darting swift from the Olympian heights,195
Reach’d soon Achaia’s fleet. There, she perceived
Prudent as Jove himself, Ulysses; firm
He stood; he touch’d not even with his hand
His sable bark, for sorrow whelm’d his soul.
The Athenæan Goddess azure-eyed200
Beside him stood, and thus the Chief bespake.
Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!
Why seek ye, thus precipitate, your ships?
Intend ye flight? And is it thus at last,
That the Achaians on the billows borne,205
Shall seek again their country, leaving here,
To be the vaunt of Ilium and her King,
Helen of Argos, in whose cause the Greeks
Have numerous perish’d from their home remote?
Delay not. Rush into the throng; by force210
Detain them of thy soothing speech, ere yet
All launch their oary barks into the flood.