The noble Nestor, and him thus bespake.

  Arise, Neleian Nestor! Pride of Greece!

  Ascend thy chariot, and Machaon placed

  Beside thee, bear him, instant to the fleet.

  For one, so skill'd in medicine, and to free

  The inherent barb, is worth a multitude.

  He said, nor the Gerenian hero old

  Aught hesitated, but into his seat

  Ascended, and Machaon, son renown'd

  Of Æsculapius, mounted at his side.

  He lash'd the steeds, they not unwilling sought

  The hollow ships, long their familiar home.

  Cebriones, meantime, the charioteer

  Of Hector, from his seat the Trojan ranks

  Observing sore discomfited, began.

  Here are we busied, Hector! on the skirts

  Of roaring battle, and meantime I see

  Our host confused, their horses and themselves

  All mingled. Telamonian Ajax there

  Routs them; I know the hero by his shield.

  Haste, drive we thither, for the carnage most

  Of horse and foot conflicting furious, there

  Rages, and infinite the shouts arise.

  He said, and with shrill-sounding scourge the steeds

  Smote ample-maned; they, at the sudden stroke

  Through both hosts whirl'd the chariot, shields and men

  Trampling; with blood the axle underneath

  All redden'd, and the chariot-rings with drops

  From the horse-hoofs, and from the fellied wheels.

  Full on the multitude he drove, on fire

  To burst the phalanx, and confusion sent

  Among the Greeks, for nought he shunn'd the spear.

  All quarters else with falchion or with lance,

  Or with huge stones he ranged, but cautious shunn'd

  The encounter of the Telamonian Chief.

  But the eternal father throned on high

  With fear fill'd Ajax; panic-fixt he stood,

  His seven-fold shield behind his shoulder cast,

  And hemm'd by numbers, with an eye askant,

  Watchful retreated. As a beast of prey

  Retiring, turns and looks, so he his face

  Turn'd oft, retiring slow, and step by step.

  As when the watch-dogs and assembled swains

  Have driven a tawny lion from the stalls,

  Then, interdicting him his wish'd repast,

  Watch all the night, he, famish'd, yet again

  Comes furious on, but speeds not, kept aloof

  By frequent spears from daring hands, but more

  By flash of torches, which, though fierce, he dreads,

  Till, at the dawn, sullen he stalks away;

  So from before the Trojans Ajax stalk'd

  Sullen, and with reluctance slow retired.

  His brave heart trembling for the fleet of Greece.

  As when (the boys o'erpower'd) a sluggish ass,

  On whose tough sides they have spent many a staff,

  Enters the harvest, and the spiry ears

  Crops persevering; with their rods the boys

  Still ply him hard, but all their puny might

  Scarce drives him forth when he hath browsed his fill,

  So, there, the Trojans and their foreign aids

  With glittering lances keen huge Ajax urged,

  His broad shield's centre smiting. He, by turns,

  With desperate force the Trojan phalanx dense

  Facing, repulsed them, and by turns he fled,

  But still forbad all inroad on the fleet.

  Trojans and Greeks between, alone, he stood

  A bulwark. Spears from daring hands dismiss'd

  Some, piercing his broad shield, there planted stood,

  While others, in the midway falling, spent

  Their disappointed rage deep in the ground.

  Eurypylus, Evæmon's noble son,

  Him seeing, thus, with weapons overwhelmed

  Flew to his side, his glittering lance dismiss'd,

  And Apisaon, son of Phausias, struck

  Under the midriff; through his liver pass'd

  The ruthless point, and, falling, he expired.

  Forth sprang Eurypylus to seize the spoil;

  Whom soon as godlike Alexander saw

  Despoiling Apisaon of his arms,

  Drawing incontinent his bow, he sent

  A shaft to his right thigh; the brittle reed

  Snapp'd, and the rankling barb stuck fast within.

  Terrified at the stroke, the wounded Chief

  To his own band retired, but, as he went,

  With echoing voice call'd on the Danaï —

  Friends! Counsellors, and leaders of the Greeks!

  Turn ye and stand, and from his dreadful lot

  Save Ajax whelm'd with weapons; 'scape, I judge,

  He cannot from the roaring fight, yet oh

  Stand fast around him; if save ye may,

  Your champion huge, the Telamonian Chief!

  So spake the wounded warrior. They at once

  With sloping bucklers, and with spears erect,

  To his relief approach'd. Ajax with joy

  The friendly phalanx join'd, then turn'd and stood.

  Thus burn'd the embattled field as with the flames

  Of a devouring fire. Meantime afar

  From all that tumult the Neleian mares

  Bore Nestor, foaming as they ran, with whom

  Machaon also rode, leader revered.

  Achilles mark'd him passing; for he stood

  Exalted on his huge ship's lofty stern,

  Spectator of the toil severe, and flight

  Deplorable of the defeated Greeks.

  He call'd his friend Patroclus. He below

  Within his tent the sudden summons heard

  And sprang like Mars abroad, all unaware

  That in that sound he heard the voice of fate.

  Him first Menœtius' gallant son address'd.

  What would Achilles? Wherefore hath he call'd?

  To whom Achilles swiftest of the swift:

  Brave Menœtiades! my soul's delight!

  Soon will the Grecians now my knees surround

  Suppliant, by dread extremity constrain'd.

  But fly Patroclus, haste, oh dear to Jove!

  Inquire of Nestor, whom he hath convey'd

  From battle, wounded? Viewing him behind,

  I most believed him Æsculapius' son

  Machaon, but the steeds so swiftly pass'd

  My galley, that his face escaped my note.

  He said, and prompt to gratify his friend,

  Forth ran Patroclus through the camp of Greece.

  Now when Neleian Nestor to his tent

  Had brought Machaon, they alighted both,

  And the old hero's friend Eurymedon

  Released the coursers. On the beach awhile

  Their tunics sweat-imbued in the cool air

  They ventilated, facing full the breeze,

  Then on soft couches in the tent reposed.

  Meantime, their beverage Hecamede mix'd,

  The old King's bright-hair'd captive, whom he brought

  From Tenedos, what time Achilles sack'd

  The city, daughter of the noble Chief

  Arsinoüs, and selected from the rest

  For Nestor, as the honorable meed

  Of counsels always eminently wise.

  She, first, before them placed a table bright,

  With feet cœrulean; thirst-provoking sauce

  She brought them also in a brazen tray,

  Garlic and honey new, and sacred meal.

  Beside them, next, she placed a noble cup

  Of labor exquisite, which from his home

  The ancient King had brought with golden studs

  Embellish'd; it presented to the grasp

  Four ears; two golden turtles, perch'd on each,

  Seem'd feeding, and two turtles form'd the base.

  That cup once fill'd, all others must have toil'd

  To move it from the board, but it was light

  In Nestor's hand; he lifted it with ease.

  The graceful virgin in that cup a draught

  Mix'd for them, Pramnian wine and savory cheese

  Of goat's milk, grated with a brazen rasp,

  Then sprinkled all with meal. The draught prepared,

  She gave it to their hand; they, drinking, slaked

  Their fiery thirst, and with each other sat

  Conversing friendly, when the godlike youth

  By brave Achilles sent, stood at the door.

  Him seeing, Nestor from his splendid couch

  Arose, and by the hand leading him in,

  Entreated him to sit, but that request

  Patroclus, on his part refusing, said,

  Oh venerable King! no seat is here

  For me, nor may thy courtesy prevail.

  He is irascible, and to be fear'd

  Who bade me ask what Chieftain thou hast brought

  From battle, wounded; but untold I learn;

  I see Machaon, and shall now report

  As I have seen; oh ancient King revered!

  Thou know'st Achilles fiery, and propense

  Blame to impute even where blame is none.

  To whom the brave Gerenian thus replied.

  Why feels Achilles for the wounded Greeks

  Such deep concern? He little knows the height

  To which our sorrows swell. Our noblest lie

  By spear or arrow wounded in the fleet.

  Diomede, warlike son of Tydeus, bleeds,

  Gall'd by a shaft; Ulysses, glorious Chief,

  And Agamemnon suffer by the spear;

  Eurypylus is shot into the thigh,

  And here lies still another newly brought

  By me from fight, pierced also by a shaft.

  What then? How strong soe'er to give them aid,

  Achilles feels no pity of the Greeks.

  Waits he till every vessel on the shore

  Fired, in despite of the whole Argive host,

  Be sunk in its own ashes, and ourselves

  All perish, heaps on heaps? For in my limbs

  No longer lives the agility of my youth.

  Oh, for the vigor of those days again,

  When Elis, for her cattle which we took,

  Strove with us and Itymoneus I slew,

  Brave offspring of Hypirochus; he dwelt

  In Elis, and while I the pledges drove,

  Stood for his herd, but fell among the first

  By a spear hurl'd from my victorious arm.

  Then fled the rustic multitude, and we

  Drove off abundant booty from the plain,

  Herds fifty of fat beeves, large flocks of goats

  As many, with as many sheep and swine,

  And full thrice fifty mares of brightest hue,

  All breeders, many with their foals beneath.

  All these, by night returning safe, we drove

  Into Neleian Pylus, and the heart

  Rejoiced of Neleus, in a son so young

  A warrior, yet enrich'd with such a prize.

  At early dawn the heralds summon'd loud

  The citizens, to prove their just demands

  On fruitful Elis, and the assembled Chiefs

  Division made (for numerous were the debts

  Which the Epeans, in the weak estate

  Of the unpeopled Pylus, had incurr'd;

  For Hercules, few years before, had sack'd

  Our city, and our mightiest slain. Ourselves

  The gallant sons of Neleus, were in all

  Twelve youths, of whom myself alone survived;

  The rest all perish'd; whence, presumptuous grown,

  The brazen-mail'd Epeans wrong'd us oft).

  A herd of beeves my father for himself

  Selected, and a numerous flock beside,

  Three hundred sheep, with shepherds for them all.

  For he a claimant was of large arrears

  From sacred Elis. Four unrivall'd steeds

  With his own chariot to the games he sent,

  That should contend for the appointed prize

  A tripod; but Augeias, King of men,

  Detain'd the steeds, and sent the charioteer

  Defrauded home. My father, therefore, fired

  At such foul outrage both of deeds and words,

  Took much, and to the Pylians gave the rest

  For satisfaction of the claims of all.

  While thus we busied were in these concerns,

  And in performance of religious rites

  Throughout the city, came the Epeans arm'd,

  Their whole vast multitude both horse and foot

  On the third day; came also clad in brass

  The two Molions, inexpert as yet

  In feats of arms, and of a boyish age.

  There is a city on a mountain's head,

  Fast by the banks of Alpheus, far remote,

  The utmost town which sandy Pylus owns,

  Named Thryoëssa, and, with ardor fired

  To lay it waste, that city they besieged.

  Now when their host had traversed all the plain,

  Minerva from Olympus flew by night

  And bade us arm; nor were the Pylians slow

  To assemble, but impatient for the fight.

  Me, then, my father suffer'd not to arm,

  But hid my steeds, for he supposed me raw

  As yet, and ignorant how war is waged.

  Yet, even thus, unvantaged and on foot,

  Superior honors I that day acquired

  To theirs who rode, for Pallas led me on

  Herself to victory. There is a stream

  Which at Arena falls into the sea,

  Named Minuëius; on that river's bank

  The Pylian horsemen waited day's approach,

  And thither all our foot came pouring down.

  The flood divine of Alpheus thence we reach'd

  At noon, all arm'd complete; there, hallow'd rites

  We held to Jove omnipotent, and slew

  A bull to sacred Alpheus, with a bull

  To Neptune, and a heifer of the herd

  To Pallas; then, all marshall'd as they were,

  From van to rear our legions took repast,

  And at the river's side slept on their arms.

  Already the Epean host had round

  Begirt the city, bent to lay it waste,

  A task which cost them, first, both blood and toil,

  For when the radiant sun on the green earth

  Had risen, with prayer to Pallas and to Jove,

  We gave them battle. When the Pylian host

  And the Epeans thus were close engaged,

  I first a warrior slew, Mulius the brave,

  And seized his coursers. He the eldest-born

  Of King Augeias' daughters had espoused

  The golden Agamede; not an herb

  The spacious earth yields but she knew its powers,

  Him, rushing on me, with my brazen lance

  I smote, and in the dust he fell; I leap'd

  Into his seat, and drove into the van.

  A panic seized the Epeans when they saw

  The leader of their horse o'erthrown, a Chief

  Surpassing all in fight. Black as a cloud

  With whirlwind fraught, I drove impetuous on,

  Took fifty chariots, and at side of each

  Lay two slain warriors, with their teeth the soil

  Grinding, all vanquish'd by my single arm.

  I had slain also the Molions, sons

  Of Actor, but the Sovereign of the deep

  Their own authentic Sire, in darkness dense

  Involving both, convey'd them safe away.

  Then Jove a victory of prime renown

  Gave to the Pylians; for we chased and slew

  And gather'd spoil o'er all the champain spread

  With scatter'd shields, till we our steeds had driven

  To the Buprasian fields laden with corn,

  To the Olenian rock, and to a town

  In fair Colona situate, and named

  Alesia. There it was that Pallas turn'd

  Our people homeward; there I left the last

  Of all the slain, and he was slain by me.

  Then drove the Achaians from Buprasium home

  Their coursers fleet, and Jove, of Gods above,

  Received most praise, Nestor of men below.

  Such once was I. But brave Achilles shuts

  His virtues close, an unimparted store;

  Yet even he shall weep, when all the host,

  His fellow-warriors once, shall be destroy'd.

  But recollect, young friend! the sage advice

  Which when thou earnest from Phthia to the aid

  Of Agamemnon, on that selfsame day

  Menœtius gave thee. We were present there,

  Ulysses and myself, both in the house,

  And heard it all; for to the house we came

  Of Peleus in our journey through the land

  Of fertile Greece, gathering her states to war.

  We found thy noble sire Menœtius there,

  Thee and Achilles; ancient Peleus stood

  To Jove the Thunderer offering in his court

  Thighs of an ox, and on the blazing rites

  Libation pouring from a cup of gold.

  While ye on preparation of the feast

  Attended both, Ulysses and myself

  Stood in the vestibule; Achilles flew

  Toward us, introduced us by the hand,

  And, seating us, such liberal portion gave

  To each, as hospitality requires.

  Our thirst, at length, and hunger both sufficed,

  I, foremost speaking, ask'd you to the wars,

  And ye were eager both, but from your sires

  Much admonition, ere ye went, received.

  Old Peleus charged Achilles to aspire

  To highest praise, and always to excel.

  But thee, thy sire Menœtius thus advised.

  "My son! Achilles boasts the nobler birth,

  But thou art elder; he in strength excels

  Thee far; thou, therefore, with discretion rule

  His inexperience; thy advice impart

  With gentleness; instruction wise suggest

  Wisely, and thou shalt find him apt to learn."

  So thee thy father taught, but, as it seems,

  In vain. Yet even now essay to move

  Warlike Achilles; if the Gods so please,

  Who knows but that thy reasons may prevail

  To rouse his valiant heart? men rarely scorn

  The earnest intercession of a friend.

  But if some prophecy alarm his fears,

  And from his Goddess mother he have aught

  Received, who may have learnt the same from Jove,

  Thee let him send at least, and order forth