He said, nor did the herald not obey, But through the brass-clad ranks of Greece he pass’d, In search of brave Machaon; him he found Standing, by buckler’d warriors bold begirt, Who follow’d him from Trica’s grassy plains. He stood beside him, and address’d him thus: “Up, son of Æsculapius! Atreus’ son, The mighty monarch, summons thee to see The warlike Menelaus, chief of Greeks, Who by an arrow from some practis’d hand, Trojan or Lycian, hath receiv’d a wound; A cause of boast to them, to us of grief.” Thus he; and not unmov’d Machaon heard: They thro’ the crowd, and thro’ the wide-spread host, Together took their way; but when they came Where fair-hair’d Menelaus, wounded, stood, Around him in a ring the best of Greece, And in the midst the godlike chief himself, From the close-fitting belt the shaft he drew, Breaking the pointed barbs; the sparkling belt He loosen’d, and the doublet underneath, And coat of mail, the work of arm’rer’s hand. But when the wound appear’d in sight, where struck The stinging arrow, from the clotted blood He cleans’d it, and applied with skilful hand The herbs of healing power, which Chiron erst In friendly guise upon his sire bestowed. While round the valiant Menelaus they Were thus engag’d, advanc’d the Trojan hosts: They donn’d their arms, and for the fight prepar’d. In Agamemnon then no trace was seen Of laggard sloth, no shrinking from the fight, But full of ardour to the field he rush’d. He left his horses and brass-mounted car (The champing horses by Eurymedon, The son of Ptolemy, Peiraeus’ son, Were held aloof), but with repeated charge Still to be near at hand, when faint with toil His limbs should fail him marshalling his host. Himself on foot the warrior ranks array’d; With cheering words addressing whom he found With zeal preparing for the battle-field: “Relax not, valiant friends, your warlike toil; For Jove to falsehood ne’er will give his aid; And they who first, regardless of their oaths, Have broken truce, shall with their flesh themselves The vultures feed, while we, their city raz’d, Their wives and helpless children bear away.” But whom remiss and shrinking from the war He found, with keen rebuke he thus assail’d; “Ye wretched Greeks, your country’s foul reproach, Have ye no sense of shame? Why stand ye thus Like timid fawns, that in the chase run down, Stand all bewildered, spiritless and tame? So stand ye now, nor dare to face the fight. What! will ye wait the Trojans’ near approach, Where on the beach, beside the hoary deep, Our goodly ships are drawn, and see if Jove Will o’er you his protecting hand extend?” As thus the King the serried ranks review’d, He came where thronging round their skilful chief Idomeneus, the warlike bands of Crete Were arming for the fight; Idomeneus, Of courage stubborn as the forest boar, The foremost ranks array’d; Meriones The rearmost squadrons had in charge; with joy The monarch Agamemnon saw, and thus With accents bland Idomeneus address’d: