Machaon’s heart was touched, and forth they went Through the great throng, the army of the Greeks. And when they came where Atreus’ warlike son Was wounded, they perceived the godlike man Standing amid a circle of the chiefs, The bravest of the Achaians, who at once Had gathered round. Without delay he drew The arrow from the fairly-fitted belt. The barbs were bent in drawing. Then he loosed The embroidered belt, the quilted vest beneath, And plate—the armorer’s work—and carefully O’erlooked the wound where fell the bitter shaft, Cleansed it from blood, and sprinkled over it With skill the soothing balsams which of yore The friendly Chiron to his father gave.
While round the warlike Menelaus thus The chiefs were busy, all the Trojans moved Into array of battle; they put on Their armor, and were eager for the fight. Then wouldst thou not have seen, hadst thou been there, King Agamemnon slumbering, or in fear, And skulking from the combat, but alert, Preparing for the glorious tasks of war. His horses, and his chariot bright with brass, He left, and bade Eurymedon, his groom, The son of Ptolemy Piraides, Hold them apart still panting, yet with charge To keep them near their master, till the hour When he should need them, weary with the toil Of such a vast command. Meantime he went On foot among his files of soldiery, And whomsoe’er he found with fiery steeds Hasting to battle, thus he cheered them on:—
“O Argives! Let not your hot courage cool, For Father Jove will never take the part Of treachery. Whosoe’er have been the first To break the league, upon their lifeless limbs Shall vultures feast; and doubt not we shall bear Away in our good ships the wives they love And their young children, when we take their town.”
But whomsoe’er he saw that kept afar From the dread field, he angrily rebuked:—