“Go, fatal Vision, to the Grecian fleet, And, entering Agamemnon’s tent, declare Faithfully what I bid thee. Give command That now he arm, with all the array of war, The long-haired Greeks, for lo, the hour is come That gives into his hands the city of Troy With all its spacious streets. The powers who dwell In the celestial mansions are no more At variance; Juno’s prayers have moved them all, And o’er the Trojans hangs a fearful doom.”

So spake the God; the Vision heard, and went At once to where the Grecian barques were moored, And entered Agamemnon’s tent and found The king reposing, with the balm of sleep Poured all around him. At his head the Dream Took station in the form of Neleus’ son, Nestor, whom Agamemnon honored most Of all the aged men. In such a shape The heaven-sent Dream to Agamemnon spake:⁠—