Whom answer’d Agamemnon, King of men: “Nestor, since to the ships the war is brought, Nor hath the wall avail’d to stay their course, Nor yet the deep-dug trench, on which we Greeks Much toil bestow’d, and which we vainly hop’d Might guard, impregnable, ourselves and ships; Seems it the will of Saturn’s mighty son That, far from Argos, from our native land, We all should here in nameless graves be laid. I knew when once he lov’d to aid the Greeks; But now I see that to the blessed Gods Our foes he equals, and our strength confounds. Hear then my counsel; let us all agree The ships that nearest to the sea are beach’d To launch upon the main, till nightfall there To ride at anchor: if that e’en by night The Trojans may suspend their fierce assault; Then may we launch in safety all the fleet. No shame it is to fly, although by night, Impending evil; better so to fly Than by the threaten’d danger be o’erta’en.” To whom, with scornful glance, Ulysses sage: “What words have pass’d the barrier of thy lips, Thou son of Atreus? counsellor of ill! Would thou hadst been of some ignoble band The leader, not the chief of such a host As ours, on whom, from youth to latest age, Jove hath the gift bestow’d, to bear the brunt Of hardy war, till ev’ry man be slain. And think’st thou so to leave the lofty walls Of Troy, the object of our painful toil? Be silent, that no other Greek may hear Words, which no man might trust his tongue to speak, Who nobler counsels understands, and wields A royal sceptre, and th’ allegiance claims Of numbers, such as those that own thy sway. Thy counsels all I utterly condemn; Who, ’mid the close and clamour of the fight, Wouldst have us launch our ships, and give the foe, Already too triumphant, cause renew’d For boasting; then were death our certain lot; For, if the ships he launch’d, not long will Greeks Sustain the war, but with reverted eyes Shrink from the fight; to such pernicious end Would lead thy baneful counsels, mighty chief.” Whom answer’d Agamemnon, King of men: “Ulysses, thy rebuke hath wrung my soul; Yet never meant I, that against their will The sons of Greece should launch their well found ships: But if there be who better counsel knows, Or young or old, his words would please me well.”