He said: the Vision heard, and straight obey’d: Swiftly he sped, and reached the Grecian ships, And sought the son of Atreus; him he found Within his tent, wrapped in ambrosial sleep; Above his head he stood, like Neleus’ son, Nestor, whom Agamemnon rev’renc’d most Of all the Elders; in his likeness cloth’d Thus spoke the heav’nly Vision; “Sleep’st thou, son Of Atreus, valiant warrior, horseman bold? To sleep all night but ill becomes a chief, Charg’d with the public weal, and cares of state. Hear now the words I bear; to thee I come A messenger from Jove, who from on high Looks down on thee with eyes of pitying love. He bids thee arm in haste the long-hair’d Greeks To combat; since the wide-built streets of Troy Thou now mayst capture; for th’ immortal Gods Watch over her no longer; all are gain’d By Juno’s pray’rs; and woes impend o’er Troy. Bear this in mind; and when from sleep arous’d Let not my words from thy remembrance fade.” This said, he vanish’d; and the monarch left, Inspir’d with thoughts which ne’er should come to pass. For in that day he vainly hop’d to take The town of Priam; ignorant what Jove Design’d in secret, or what woes, what groans, What lengthen’d labours in the stubborn fight, Were yet for Trojans and for Greeks in store. He woke from sleep; but o’er his senses spread Dwelt still the heavenly voice; he sat upright; He donn’d his vest of texture fine, new-wrought, Then o’er it threw his ample robe, and bound His sandals fair around his well-turn’d feet; And o’er his shoulders flung his sword, adorn’d With silver studs; and bearing in his hand His royal staff, ancestral, to the ships Where lay the brass-clad warriors, bent his way.