The man of craft, Ulysses, smiled, and said:— “Truly, thy hope was set on princely gifts— The steeds of war-renowned Aeacides, Hard to be reined by mortal hands, or driven as By any, save by Peleus’ son himself, Whom an immortal mother bore. But come, Tell me—and tell the truth—where hast thou left Hector, the leader of the host, and where Are laid his warlike arms; where stand his steeds; Where are the sentinels, and where the tents Of other chiefs? On what do they consult? Will they remain beside our galleys here, Or do they meditate, since, as they say, The Greeks are beaten, a return to Troy?”
Dolon, Eumedes’ son, made answer thus:— “What thou requirest I will truly tell. Hector is with his counsellors, and now, Apart from all the bustle, at the tomb Of Ilus the divine, he plans the war. Sentries, of whom thou speakest, there are none; No chosen band, O hero! has in charge To guard the camp. By all their blazing fires, Constrained by need, the Trojans keep awake, And each exhorts his fellow to maintain The watch: not so the auxiliar troops who came From far: they sleep, and since they have no wives Nor children near, they let the Trojans watch.”
Then thus the man of wiles, Ulysses, spake:— “How sleep they—mingled with the knights of Troy Or by themselves? Tell me, that I may know.”
Dolon, Eumedes’ son, made answer thus:— “What thou requirest I will truly tell. On one hand, toward the sea, the bowmen lie Of Caria and Paeonia, and with them Lelegans, Caucons, and the gallant tribe Of the Pelasgians. On the other hand, Toward Thymbra, are the Lycians, the proud race Of Mysia, Phrygia’s knights, and cavalry Of the Maeonians. Why should ye inquire The place of each? If ye design tonight To