Then, coming from the fleet, the wounded kings, Nurslings of Jove, met Nestor; toward him came Tydides, and Ulysses, and the son Of Atreus, Agamemnon. On the beach Of the gray deep their ships were ranged afar From that fierce conflict. There the Greeks had drawn, To the plain’s edge, the first that touched the land, And built a rampart at their sterns. Though long The shore-line, it sufficed not to contain The galleys, and the host had scanty room; Wherefore they drew the galleys up in rows, Row behind row, and filled the shore’s wide mouth Between the promontories. There the kings Walked, leaning on their lances, to behold The tumult and the fight, and inly grieved. The sight of aged Nestor startled them, And thus the royal Agamemnon spake:⁠—