Thou ravest, my royal brother! and art seized
With needless frenzy. But, however chafed,
Restrain thy wrath, nor covet to contend125
With Priameian Hector, whom in fight
All dread, a warrior thy superior far.
Not even Achilles, in the glorious field
(Though stronger far than thou) this hero meets
Undaunted. Go then, and thy seat resume130
In thy own band; the Achaians shall for him,
Doubtless, some fitter champion furnish forth.
Brave though he be, and with the toils of war
Insatiable, he shall be willing yet,
Seated on his bent knees, to breathe a while,135
Should he escape the arduous brunt severe.
So saying, the hero by his counsel wise
His brother’s purpose alter’d; he complied,
And his glad servants eased him of his arms.
Then Nestor thus the Argive host bespake.140
Great wo, ye Gods! hath on Achaia fallen.
Now may the warlike Pelaus, hoary Chief,
Who both with eloquence and wisdom rules
The Myrmidons, our foul disgrace deplore.
With him discoursing, erst, of ancient times,145
When all your pedigrees I traced, I made
His heart bound in him at the proud report.
But now, when he shall learn how here we sat
Cowering at the foot of Hector, he shall oft
His hands uplift to the immortal Gods,150
Praying a swift release into the shades.
Jove! Pallas! Phœbus! Oh that I were young
As when the Pylians in fierce fight engaged
The Arcadians spear-expert, beside the stream
Of rapid Celadon! Beneath the walls155
We fought of Pheia, where the Jardan rolls.
There Ereuthalion, Chief of godlike form,
Stood forth before his van, and with loud voice
Defied the Pylians. Arm’d he was in steel
By royal Areïthous whilom worn;160
Brave Areïthous, Corynetes[4] named
By every tongue; for that in bow and spear
Nought trusted he, but with an iron mace
The close-embattled phalanx shatter’d wide.
Him by address, not by superior force,165
Lycurgus vanquish’d, in a narrow pass,
Where him his iron whirl-bat[5] nought avail’d.
Lycurgus stealing on him, with his lance
Transpierced and fix’d him to the soil supine.
Him of his arms, bright gift of brazen Mars,170
He stripp’d, which after, in the embattled field
Lycurgus wore himself, but, growing old,
Surrender’d them to Ereuthalion’s use
His armor-bearer, high in his esteem,
And Ereuthalion wore them on the day175
When he defied our best. All hung their heads
And trembled; none dared meet him; till at last
With inborn courage warm’d, and nought dismayed,
Though youngest of them all, I undertook
That contest, and, by Pallas’ aid, prevail’d.180
I slew the man in height and bulk all men
Surpassing, and much soil he cover’d slain.
Oh for the vigor of those better days!
Then should not Hector want a champion long,
Whose call to combat, ye, although the prime185
And pride of all our land, seem slow to hear.
He spake reproachful, when at once arose
Nine heroes. Agamemnon, King of men,
Foremost arose; then Tydeus’ mighty son,
With either Ajax in fierce prowess clad;190
The Cretan next, Idomeneus, with whom
Uprose Meriones his friend approved,
Terrible as the man-destroyer Mars.
Evæmon’s noble offspring next appear’d
Eurypylus; Andræmon’s son the next195
Thoas; and last, Ulysses, glorious Chief.
All these stood ready to engage in arms
With warlike Hector, when the ancient King,
Gerenian Nestor, thus his speech resumed.
Now cast the lot for all. Who wins the chance200
Shall yield Achaia service, and himself
Serve also, if successful he escape
This brunt of hostile hardiment severe.
So Nestor. They, inscribing each his lot,
Into the helmet cast it of the son205
Of Atreus, Agamemnon. Then the host
Pray’d all, their hands uplifting, and with eyes
To the wide heavens directed, many said[6]—
Eternal sire! choose Ajax, or the son
Of Tydeus, or the King himself[7] who sways210
The sceptre in Mycenæ wealth-renown’d!
Such prayer the people made; then Nestor shook
The helmet, and forth leaped, whose most they wished,
The lot of Ajax. Throughout all the host
To every chief and potentate of Greece,215
From right to left the herald bore the lot
By all disown’d; but when at length he reach’d
The inscriber of the lot, who cast it in,
Illustrious Ajax, in his open palm
The herald placed it, standing at his side.220
He, conscious, with heroic joy the lot
Cast at his foot, and thus exclaim’d aloud.
My friends! the lot is mine,[8] and my own heart
Rejoices also; for I nothing doubt
That noble Hector shall be foil’d by me.225
But while I put mine armor on, pray all
In silence to the King Saturnian Jove,
Lest, while ye pray, the Trojans overhear.
Or pray aloud, for whom have we to dread?
No man shall my firm standing by his strength230
Unsettle, or for ignorance of mine
Me vanquish, who, I hope, brought forth and train’d
In Salamis, have, now, not much to learn.
He ended. They with heaven-directed eyes
The King in prayer address’d, Saturnian Jove.235