To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied: “Whence comes Achilles’ pity for the Greeks By Trojan weapons wounded? knows he not What depth of suff’ring through the camp prevails? How in the ships, by arrow or by spear Sore wounded, all our best and bravest lie? The valiant son of Tydeus, Diomed, Pierc’d by a shaft; Ulysses by a spear, And Agamemnon’s self; Eurypylus By a sharp arrow through the thigh transfix’d; And here another, whom but now I bring, Shot by a bow, from off the battle field: Achilles, valiant as he is, the while For Grecian woes nor care nor pity feels. Waits he, until our ships beside the sea, In our despite, are burnt by hostile fires, And we be singly slain? not mine is now The strength I boasted once of active limbs. O that such youth and vigour yet were mine, As when about a cattle-lifting raid We fought th’ Eleans; there Itymoneus I slew, the son of brave Hyperochus, Who dwelt in Elis; and my booty drove. He sought to guard the herd; but from my hand A jav’lin struck him in the foremost ranks: He fell, and terror seiz’d the rustic crowd. Abundant store of plunder from the plain We drove: of horned cattle fifty herds; As many flocks of sheep, as many droves Of swine, as many wide-spread herds of goats, And thrice so many golden-chesnut mares, The foals of many running with their dams. To Pylos, Neleus’ city, these we drove By night; and much it gladden’d Neleus’ heart, That I, though new to war, such prize had won. When morn appear’d, the clear-voic’d heralds call’d For all to whom from Elis debts were due; Collected thus, the Pylians’ leading men Division made: for Elis ow’d us much; Such wrongs we few in Pylos had sustain’d. The might of Hercules in former years Had storm’d our town, and all our bravest slain. Twelve gallant sons had Neleus; I of these Alone was left; the others all were gone. Whence over-proud, th’ Epeians treated us With insult, and high-handed violence. A herd of oxen now, and num’rous flock Of sheep, th’ old man selected for himself, Three hundred, with their shepherds; for to him Large compensation was from Elis due. Train’d to the course, four horses, with their cars, He for the Tripod at th’ Elean games Had sent to run; these Augeas, King of men, Detain’d, and bade the drivers home return, Bootless, and grieving for their horses’ loss. Th’ old man his words resenting, and his acts, Large spoils retain’d; the rest among the crowd He shar’d, that none might lose his portion due. These we dispos’d of soon, and to the Gods Due off’rings made; but when the third day rose, Back in all haste, in numbers, horse and foot, Our foes return’d; with, them the Molion twins, Yet boys, untutor’d in the arts of war. Far off, by Alpheus’ banks, th’ extremest verge Of sandy Pylos, is a lofty mound, The city of Thryum; which around, intent To raze its walls, their army was encamp’d. The plain already they had overspread; When Pallas from Olympus’ heights came down In haste, and bade us all prepare for war.