Aurora now was rising up the steep Of great Olympus, to th’ immortal Gods Pure light diffusing; when Atrides bade The clear-voic’d heralds to th’ Assembly call The gen’ral host; they gave the word, and straight From ev’ry quarter throng’d the eager crowd. But first, of all the Elders, by the side Of Nestor’s ship, the aged Pylian chief, A secret conclave Agamemnon call’d; And, prudent, thus the chosen few address’d: “Hear me, my friends! In the still hours of night I saw a heav’nly Vision in my sleep: Most like it seemed in stature, form, and face To rev’rend Nestor; at my head it stood, And with these words address’d me—‘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 may’st 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 thou my words in mind.’ Thus as he spoke He vanish’d; and sweet sleep forsook mine eyes. Seek we then straight to arm the sons of Greece: But first, as is our wont, myself will prove The spirit of the army; and suggest Their homeward voyage; ye, throughout the camp Restore their courage, and restrain from flight.” Thus having said, he sat; and next arose Nestor, the chief of Pylos’ sandy shore. Who thus with prudent speech replied, and said: “O friends, the chiefs and councillors of Greece, If any other had this Vision seen, We should have deem’d it false, and laugh’d to scorn The idle tale; but now it hath appear’d, Of all our army, to the foremost man: Seek we then straight to arm the sons of Greece.” He said, and from the council led the way. Uprose the sceptred monarchs, and obey’d Their leader’s call, and round them throng’d the crowd. As swarms of bees, that pour in ceaseless stream From out the crevice of some hollow rock, Now clust’ring, and anon ’mid vernal flow’rs, Some here, some there, in busy numbers fly; So to th’ Assembly from their tents and ships The countless tribes came thronging; in their midst, By Jove enkindled, Rumour urged them on. Great was the din; and as the mighty mass Sat down, the solid earth beneath them groan’d; Nine heralds rais’d their voices loud, to quell The storm of tongues, and bade the noisy crowd Be still, and listen to the Heav’n-born Kings.