All the night long the captains of the Greeks Slept at the ships, and pleasant was their sleep⁠— Save only Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, The shepherd of the people. Not to him⁠— Vexed with a thousand cares⁠—came gentle sleep. As when the husband of the light-haired queen Of heaven sends forth his thunders, ushering in Some wide-involving shower⁠—rain, hail, or snow Whitening the fields⁠—or opening o’er some land The ravenous jaws of unrelenting war⁠— So frequent were the groans which from his heart Atrides uttered; for within his breast His heart was troubled. Looking toward the plain Of Troy, he wondered at the many fires Blazing before the city, and the sound Of flutes and fifes, and tumult of the crowd. But when he turned him toward the fleet and host Of Greece, he tore his hair, and flung it up To Jove, and vented his great heart in groans. And now at length it seemed to him most wise To seek Neleian Nestor, and with him Devise some plan by which to turn aside The threatened evil from the Greeks. He rose, And drew his tunic o’er his breast, and laced