The gods will come; or shall I say man’s spirit
Hath operative faculties to mix
And make his gods at will? Howe’er that be,
Soon a swift galley shot out from the rest
To meet the comers. That was Agamemnon’s,
They told me; and I doubt not he was in it,
And gave his welcome to Idomeneus,
And took him to his tent. On such a day
Our little boat rowed where we would unmarked:
We were but Chalcian pilots. So I saw