To whom, in answer, Helen, heav’nly fair: “Gigantic Ajax that, the prop of Greece; And by his side Idomeneus of Crete Stands godlike, circled round by Cretan chiefs. The warlike Menelaus welcom’d him Oft in our palace, when from Crete he came. Now all the other keen-ey’d Greeks I see, Whom once I knew, and now could call by name; But two I miss, two captains of the host, My own two brethren, and my mother’s sons, Castor and Pollux; Castor, charioteer Unrivalled, Pollux, matchless pugilist. In Lacedaemon have they stay’d behind? Or can it be, in ocean-going ships That they have come indeed, but shun to join The fight of warriors, fearful of the shame, And deep disgrace that on my name attend?” Thus she; but they beneath the teeming earth In Lacedaemon lay, their native land. Meanwhile the heralds through the city bore The treaty off’rings to the Gods; the lambs, And genial wine, the produce of the soil, In goat-skin flasks: therewith a flagon bright, And cups of gold, Idaeus brought, and stood Beside the aged King, as thus he spoke: “Son of Laomedon, arise! the chiefs Of Trojan warriors and of brass-clad Greeks Call for thy presence on the battle-plain To swear a truce; where Paris in the midst And warlike Menelaus stand prepar’d With the long spear for Helen and the spoils Of war to combat, that whoe’er may prove The better man in fight, may bear away The woman and the spoils in triumph home; While we, the rest, in peace and friendship sworn, Shall still possess the fertile plains of Troy; And to their native Argos they return. For noble steeds and lovely women fam’d.” He said; the old man shuddered at his words: But to his comrades gave command forthwith. To yoke his car; and they his word obey’d. Priam, ascending, gather’d up the reins, And with Antenor by his side, the twain Drove through the Scaean gate their flying steeds.