“O warrior-son of Atreus, sleepest thou? Tamer of steeds! It ill becomes a chief, Who has the charge of nations and sustains Such mighty cares, to sleep the livelong night. Give earnest heed to me, for I am come A messenger from Jove, who, though far off, Takes part in thy concerns and pities thee. He bids thee arm, with all the array of war, The long-haired Greeks, for now the hour is come Which gives into thy 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, Decreed by Jove. Bear what I say in mind.’

“It spake and passed away, and with it fled My slumbers. Now must we devise a way To bring into the field the sons of Greece. I first will try, as best I may, with words, And counsel flight from Troy with all our ships. Ye each, with different counsels, do your part.”