To whom Idomeneus, the Cretan King: “What need of this? thy prowess well I know; For should we choose our bravest through the fleet To man the secret ambush, surest test Of warriors’ courage, where is manifest The diff’rence ’twixt the coward and the brave; (The coward’s colour changes, nor his soul Within his breast its even balance keeps, But changing still, from foot to foot he shifts, And in his bosom loudly beats his heart, Expecting death; and chatter all his teeth: The brave man’s colour changes not; no fear He knows, the ambush ent’ring; all his pray’r Is that the hour of battle soon may come) E’en there, thy courage none might call in doubt. Shouldst thou from spear or sword receive a wound, Not on thy neck behind, nor on thy back Would fall the blow, but on thy breast, in front, Still pressing onward ’mid the foremost ranks. But come, prolong we not this idle talk, Like babblers vain, who scorn might justly move: Haste to my tent, and there select thy spear.” He said: and from the tent Meriones, Valiant as Mars, his spear selected straight, And, eager for the fray, rejoin’d his chief. As Mars, the bane of men, goes forth to war, Attended by his strong, unfearing son, Terror, who shakes the bravest warrior’s soul; They two, from Thrace, against the Ephyri, Or haughty Phlegyans arm; nor hear alike The pray’rs of both the combatants, one side With vict’ry crowning; so to battle went Those leaders twain, in dazzling arms array’d: Then thus Meriones his chief address’d: “Son of Deucalion, say if on the right, Or on the centre of the gen’ral host, Our onset should be made, or on the left; For there, methinks, most succour need the Greeks.” To whom Idomeneus, the Cretan chief: “Others there are the centre to defend, Th’ Ajaces both, and Teucer, of the Greeks Best archer, good too in the standing fight; These may for Hector full employment find, Brave as he is, and eager for the fray; E’en for his courage ’twere a task too hard, Their might to conquer, and resistless hands, And burn the ships, if Saturn’s son himself Fire not, and ’mid the shipping throw the torch. Great Ajax Telamon to none would yield, Of mortal birth, by earthly food sustain’d, By spear or pond’rous stone assailable; In hand to hand encounter, scarce surpass’d By Peleus’ son Achilles; though with him In speed of foot he might not hope to vie. Then on the left let us our onset make; And quickly learn if we on others’ heads Are doom’d to win renown, or they on ours.”