“Friends, chiefs and princes of the Greeks, my heart⁠— Truly or falsely⁠—urges me to speak. The trampling of swift steeds is in my ears. O that Ulysses and the gallant son Of Tydeus might be bringing at this hour Firm-footed coursers from the enemy’s camp! Yet must I fear that these, our bravest chiefs, Have met disaster from the Trojan crew.”

While he was speaking yet, the warriors came. They sprang to earth; their friends, rejoicing, flocked Around them, greeting them with grasp of hands And with glad words, while the Gerenian knight, Nestor, inquired: “Declare, illustrious chief, Glory of Greece, Ulysses, how ye took These horses: from the foe;⁠—or did some god Bestow them? They are glorious as the sun. Oft am I midst the Trojans, for, though old, I lag not idly at the ships; yet ne’er Have my eyes looked on coursers like to these. Some god, no doubt, has given them, for to Jove, The God of storms, and Pallas, blue-eyed child Of aegis-bearing Jove, ye both are dear.”