This said, a silver-studded sword he gave, With scabbard and with well-cut belt complete; Ajax a girdle, rich with crimson dye. They parted; Ajax to the Grecian camp, And Hector to the ranks of Troy return’d: Great was the joy when him they saw approach, Alive and safe; escap’d from Ajax’ might And arm invincible; and tow’rd the town They led him back, beyond their hope preserv’d; While to Atrides’ tent the well-greav’d Greeks Led Ajax, glorying in his triumph gain’d. But when to Agamemnon’s tents they came, The King of men to Saturn’s royal son A bullock slew, a male of five years old; The carcase then they flay’d; and cutting up, Sever’d the joints; then fixing on the spits, Roasted with care, and from the fire withdrew. Their labours ended, and the feast prepar’d, They shar’d the social meal, nor lack’d there aught. To Ajax then the chine’s continuous length, As honour’s meed, the mighty monarch gave. The rage of thirst and hunger satisfied, The aged Nestor first his mind disclos’d; He who, before, the sagest counsel gave, Now thus with prudent speech began, and said: “Atrides, and ye other chiefs of Greece, Since many a long-hair’d Greek hath fall’n in fight, Whose blood, beside Scamander’s flowing stream, Fierce Mars has shed, while to the viewless shades Their spirits are gone, behoves thee with the morn The warfare of the Greeks to intermit: Then we, with oxen and with mules, the dead From all the plain will draw; and, from the ships A little space remov’d, will burn with fire: That we, returning to our native land, May to their children bear our comrades’ bones. Then will we go, and on the plain erect Around the pyre one common mound for all; Then quickly build before it lofty tow’rs To screen both ships and men; and in the tow’rs Make ample portals, with well-fitting gates, That through the midst a carriage-way may pass: And a deep trench around it dig, to guard Both men and chariots, lest on our defence The haughty Trojans should too hardly press.” He said; and all the Kings his words approv’d. Meanwhile, on Ilium’s height, at Priam’s gate The Trojan chiefs a troubled council held; Which op’ning, thus the sage Antenor spoke: “Hear now, ye Trojans, Dardans, and Allies, The words I speak, the promptings of my soul. Back to the sons of Atreus let us give The Argive Helen, and the goods she brought; For now in breach of plighted faith we fight: Nor can I hope, unless to my advice Ye listen, that success will crown our arms.” Thus having said, he sat; and next arose The godlike Paris, fair-hair’d Helen’s Lord; Who thus with winged words the chiefs address’d: “Hostile to me, Antenor, is thy speech; Thy better judgment better counsel knows; But if in earnest such is thine advice, Thee of thy senses have the Gods bereft. Now, Trojans, hear my answer; I reject The counsel, nor the woman will restore; But for the goods, whate’er I hither brought To Troy from Argos, I am well content To give them all, and others add beside.”