Thus Ajax, een when first he left his home,

In folly spurned his father’s monishments⁠—

‘Seek victory, my son’ (so warned the sire),

‘But seek it ever with the help of heaven.’

He in his wilful arrogance, replied,

‘Father, with gods to aid, a man of naught

Might well prevail, but I without their help.’

Such was his haughty boast. A second time,

To Queen Athena, as she spurred him on

To turn his reeking hand upon his foes,

He spake a blasphemous, outrageous word,

‘Queen, stand beside the other Greeks; where I

Am posted, fear not that our ranks will break.’

Such vaunting words drew on him the dire wrath

Of the goddess⁠—pride too high for mortal man.

But if he can survive this day, perchance

With God’s good aid we may avail to save him.”

So spake the seer, and Teucer straightway rose

And sent me with these mandates. Have I failed,

Ajax is doomed, or Calchas is no seer.

Ill-starred Tecmessa, born to woe, come forth,

And hearken to this messenger, whose words

That touch us to the quick brook no delay.

Why break my rest and trouble me again,

Relieved awhile from woes that have no end?

List to this man⁠—the tidings he has brought

Of Ajax’ fortunes, filling me with grief.