“Hear me, ye Trojans, and ye well-greaved Greeks! For me I must return to wind-swept Troy. I cannot bear, with these old eyes, to look On my dear son engaged in desperate fight With Menelaus, the beloved of Mars. Jove and the ever-living gods alone Know which of them shall meet the doom of death.”

So spake the godlike man, and placed the lambs Within his chariot, mounted, and drew up The reins. Antenor by him took his place Within the sumptuous chariot. Then they turned The horses and retraced their way to Troy.

But Hector, son of Priam, and the great Ulysses measured off a fitting space, And in a brazen helmet, to decide Which warrior first should hurl the brazen spear, They shook the lots, while all the people round Lifted their hands to heaven and prayed the gods; And thus the Trojans and Achaians said:⁠—