‘Falsely dost thou speak, Agamemnon!’ he said. ‘Better men than our fathers are we! Did we not, with fewer men and against a stronger wall, take the great city of Thebes which they strove to take in vain!’
But brave Diomedes sternly rebuked him. ‘Be silent, brother,’ he said, ‘for right and just it is that Agamemnon should urge his warriors on to the fight. His will be the glory if we overcome the men of Troy and take their city, and his will be the great sorrow if by the Trojans we Greeks are laid low. Come! let us to arms!’
From his chariot Diomedes leapt to the ground, and his armour clanged as he moved.
And as the great sea-billows raise their heads before the driving of the gale, and crash themselves in fury against the shore, casting afar their briny spray and foam, even as mightily did the Greeks move onward to battle. Horse after horse, and man after man, went as the waves of the sea.
But like bleating sheep were the Trojans as they awaited the coming of their foes.
And amongst the men of Troy fought Mars, god of war, and for the Greeks fought Athene, and with her were Terror and Rout, and Strife that never wearies.
So did the armies meet. Like wolves they fought. Man lashed at man; with blood the earth grew red, and the clamour of their fighting was as the noise of the meeting of the mountain streams when they rush in furious spate into the valleys in the winter floods.
Like trees that the woodmen cut and send crashing to the ground, so fell first one hero, then another. First fell a man of Troy, then a Greek. On that day many a Trojan and many a Greek side by side in the dust lay dead.
Now was it that to Diomedes Athene came and gave fresh strength and courage. From his helmet she made a light to shine, burning brightly as a star in summer.
Amongst the Trojans were two brothers, rich and noble, and well-skilled warriors.