“Nay, ’tis no time to sit: persuade me not, Nursling of Jove; for he is to be feared, And prone to wrath, who sent me to inquire What wounded man is with thee; but I know— Now that I see Machaon sitting here, The shepherd of the people. I must haste Back to Achilles, bearing my report. Thou knowest, ancient chief, how quick he is To take offence and blame the innocent.”
Then Nestor, the Gerenian knight, rejoined:— “Why does Achilles pity thus the sons Of Greece when wounded? Little can he know What sorrow reigns throughout the Grecian host While, smitten in the close or distant fight, Our bravest lie disabled in their ships. The valiant son of Tydeus—Diomed— Is wounded—wounded Agamemnon lies, And the great wielder of the javelin, Ulysses. By an arrow in the thigh Eurypylus is smitten, and I now Bring home this warrior with an arrow-wound. Yet doth Achilles, valiant as he is, Care nothing for the Greeks. Will he then wait Till our swift galleys, moored upon the shore, After a vain defence shall feed the flames Lit by the enemy’s hand, and we be slain, And perish, heaps on heaps? My strength is now Not that which dwelt in these once active limbs. Would I were strong and vigorous as of yore, When strife arose between our men and those Of Elis for our oxen driven away, And, driving off their beeves in turn, I slew The Elean chief, the brave Itymoneus, Son of Hypirochus! For, as he sought To save his herd, a javelin from my arm Smote him the first among his band. He fell; His rustic followers fled on every side; And mighty was the spoil we took: of beeves We drave off fifty herds, as many flocks Of sheep, of swine as many, and of goats An equal number, and of yellow steeds Thrice fifty;—these were mares, and by their sides Ran many a colt. We drave them all within Neleian Pylos in the night. Well pleased Was Neleus, that so large a booty fell To me, who entered on the war so young. When morning brake, the heralds’ cry was heard Summoning all the citizens to meet To