On no unwilling ears her message fell, But eager all for fight; but me, to arm Neleus forbade, and e’en my horses hid, Deeming me yet unripe for deeds of war. Yet so, albeit on foot, by Pallas’ grace A name I gain’d above our noblest horse. There is a river, Minyis by name, Hard by Arene, flowing to the sea, Where we, the Pylian horse, expecting morn, Encamp’d, by troops of footmen quickly join’d. Thence in all haste advancing, all in arms, We reach’d, by midday, Alpheus’ sacred stream. There, to o’erruling Jove our off’rings made, To Alpheus and to Neptune each a bull, To Pallas, blue-ey’d Maid, a heifer fair, In order’d ranks we took our ev’ning meal, And each in arms upon the river’s brink Lay down to rest; for close beside us lay Th’ Epeians, on the town’s destruction bent. Then saw they mighty deeds of war display’d; For we, as sunlight overspread the earth, To Jove and Pallas praying, battle gave. But when the Pylians and th’ Epeians met, I first a warrior slew, and seiz’d his car, Bold spearman, Mulius; Augeas’ son-in-law, His eldest daughter’s husband, Agamede, The yellow-hair’d, who all the virtues knew Of each medicinal herb the wide world grows. Him, with my brass-tipp’d spear, as on he came, I slew; he fell; I, rushing to his car, Stood ’mid the foremost ranks; th’ Epeians brave Fled diverse, when they saw their champion fall, Chief of their horsemen, foremost in the fight. With the dark whirlwind’s force, I onward rush’d, And fifty cars I took; two men in each Fell to my spear, and bit the bloody dust. Then Actor’s sons, the Molions, had I slain, Had not th’ Earth-shaking God, their mighty sire, Veil’d in thick cloud, withdrawn them from the field; Then Jove great glory to the Pylians gave. For o’er the wide-spread plain we held pursuit, Slaying, and gath’ring up the scatter’d arms, Nor till corn-clad Buprasium, and the rock Olenian, and Alesium, term’d the Mound, Stay’d we our steeds; there Pallas bade us turn. There the last man I slew, and left; the Greeks Back from Buprasium drove their flying cars To Pylos, magnifying all the name, ’Mid men, of Nestor, as ’mid Gods, of Jove. Such once was I ’mid men, while yet I was; Now to himself alone Achilles keeps His valour; yet hereafter, when the Greeks Have perish’d all, remorse shall touch his soul. Dear friend, remember now th’ injunctions giv’n By old Menoetius, when from Phthian land He sent thee forth to Agamemnon’s aid: I, and Laertes’ godlike son, within, Heard all his counsel; to the well-built house Of Peleus we on embassy had come, Throughout Achaia’s fertile lands to raise The means of war; Menoetius there we found, Achilles, and thyself within the house; While in the court-yard aged Peleus slew, And to the Lord of thunder offer’d up A fatten’d steer; and from a golden bowl O’er the burnt-off’ring pour’d the ruddy wine. We two, while ye were busied with the flesh, Stood at the gate; surpris’d, Achilles rose, And took us by the hand, and bade us sit,