_Lyc._ Nay, 500 Nor yet at Aulis: but the tale thou tellest Coming unto my ears a month ago, Some of my lords and I one idle morn Crossed to Eubœa,—’tis a pleasure trip, On a clear day scarce out of sight of home— We landed ’neath Œchalia by noon, And, crossing o’er the isle on mules, were lodged That night at Chalcis. The next day at dawn I played the spy. ’Twas such a breathless morning When all the sound and motion of the sea 510 Is short and sullen, like a dreaming beast: Or as ’twere mixed of heavier elements Than the bright water, that obeys the wind. Hiring a fishing-boat we bade the sailors Row us to Aulis; when midway the straits, The morning mist lifted, and lo, a sight Unpicturable.—High upon our left Where we supposed was nothing, suddenly A tall and shadowy figure loomed: then two, And three, and four, and more towering above us: But whether poised upon the leaden sea 521 They stood, or floated in the misty air, That baffling our best vision held entangled The silver of the half-awakened sun, Or whether near or far, we could not tell, Nor what: at first I thought them rocks, but ere That error could be told, they were upon us Bearing down swiftly athwart our course; and all Saw ’twas a fleet of ships, not three or four Now, but unnumber’d: like a floating city, 530 If such could be, with walls and battlements Spread on the wondering water: and now the sun Broke thro’ the haze, and from the shields outhung Blazed back his dazzling beams, and round their prows On the divided water played; as still They rode the tide in silence, all their oars Stretched out aloft, as are the balanced wings Of storm-fowl, which returned from battling flight Across the sea, steady their aching plumes And skim along the shuddering cliffs at ease: 540 So came they gliding on the sullen plain, Out of the dark, in silent state, by force Yet unexpended of their nightlong speed. Those were the Cretan ships, who when they saw us Hailed for a pilot, and of our native sailors Took one aboard, and dipping all their oars Passed on, and we with them, into the bay. Then from all round, where the dark hulls were moored Against the shore, and from the tents above A shout of joy went up, re-echoing 550 From point to point; and we too cheered and caught The zeal of that great gathering.—Where man is met The gods will come; or shall I say man’s spirit Hath operative faculties to mix And make his gods at will? Howe’er that be, Soon a swift galley shot out from the rest To meet the comers. That was Agamemnon’s, They told me; and I doubt not he was in it,