“O old man, certainly the youthful warriors greatly oppress thee: but thy strength is relaxed, and tiresome old age attends thee: thy servant is exhausted, and thy steeds are slow. But come, ascend my chariot, that thou mayest see what kind are the steeds of Tros, skilled to fly and to pursue very rapidly, here and there, through the plain; which lately I took from Æneas, authors of flight. Let the attendants take care of those steeds [of thine], but let us direct these against the horse-breaking Trojans, that even Hector may know whether my spear also rages madly in my hands.” Thus he said: but the Gerenian knight Nestor disobeyed him not. Accordingly, at once their attendants, brave Sthenelus and valorous Eurymedon, took care of Nestor’s steeds: and the two chiefs ascended the chariot of Diomede. Nestor took the shining reins in his hands, and lashed the steeds, and soon they came near Hector. At him rushing impetuously forward, the son of Tydeus launched a spear; but the weapon missed him, and struck his attendant charioteer in the breast, near the pap, who was holding the reins of the steeds, Eniopeus, the son of magnanimous Thebæus: but he fell from the chariot, and the swift steeds started back, and there his soul and his strength were dissolved. But excessive grief overshadowed Hector in his mind, on account of [the loss of] his charioteer. There, though grieving for his companion, he let him lie, and sought a bold charioteer: nor did his steeds long want a guide; for soon he found courageous Archeptolemus, the son of Iphitus, whom then he made to mount the swift-footed steeds, and gave the reins into his hands. Then, indeed, had slaughter arisen, and dreadful deeds had been done, and [the Trojans] had been pent up in Ilium like lambs, had not the father of both men and gods quickly perceived it. Therefore, dreadfully thundering he sent forth his glowing thunderbolt, and cast it into the earth before the steeds of Diomede: but there arose a terrible flame of burning sulphur, and the two frightened steeds crouched trembling beneath the chariot. Moreover, the beautiful reins fell from the hands of Nestor, and he feared in his soul, and addressed Diomede: “Son of Tydeus, come now, turn thy solid-hoofed steeds to flight. Dost thou not perceive that victory from Jove does not attend thee? For now, this very day, of a truth, Saturnian Jove awards him glory; afterwards again will he give it to us, if he shall be willing. By no means can a man impede the will of Jove, not even a very mighty one; since he is by far the most powerful.” But him Diomede, brave in the din of war, then answered: “Old man, certainly thou hast said all this rightly: but this grievous sorrow invades my heart and my soul: for Hector at some time will say, haranguing amongst the Trojans, ‘The son of Tydeus, routed by me, fled to his ships.’ Thus at some time will he boast: but then may the earth yawn wide for me.”