Promiscuous, and the cry ascends to heaven. But come—consult we on the sum of all,70 If counsel yet may profit. As for you, Ye shall have exhortation none from me To seek the fight; the wounded have excuse. Whom Agamemnon answer’d, King of men. Ah Nestor! if beneath our very sterns75 The battle rage, if neither trench nor wall Constructed with such labor, and supposed Of strength to guard impregnably secure Our navy and ourselves, avail us aught, It is because almighty Jove hath will’d80 That the Achaian host should perish here Inglorious, from their country far remote. When he vouchsafed assistance to the Greeks, I knew it well; and now, not less I know That high as the immortal Gods he lifts85 Our foes to glory, and depresses us. Haste therefore all, and act as I advise. Our ships—all those that nearest skirt the Deep, Launch we into the sacred flood, and moor With anchors safely, till o’ershadowing night90 (If night itself may save us) shall arrive. Then may we launch the rest; for I no shame Account it, even by ’vantage of the night To fly destruction. Wiser him I deem Who ’scapes his foe, than whom his foe enthralls.95 But him Ulysses, frowning stern, reproved. What word, Atrides, now hath pass’d thy lips? Counsellor of despair! thou should’st command (And would to heaven thou didst) a different host, Some dastard race, not ours; whom Jove ordains100 From youth to hoary age to weave the web Of toilsome warfare, till we perish all. Wilt thou the spacious city thus renounce For which such numerous woes we have endured? Hush! lest some other hear; it is a word105 Which no man qualified by years mature To speak discreetly, no man bearing rule O’er such a people as confess thy sway, Should suffer to contaminate his lips. I from my soul condemn thee, and condemn110 Thy counsel, who persuad’st us in the heat Of battle terrible as this, to launch Our fleet into the waves, that we may give Our too successful foes their full desire, And that our own prepondering scale115 May plunge us past all hope; for while they draw Their galleys down, the Grecians shall but ill Sustain the fight, seaward will cast their eyes And shun the battle, bent on flight alone. Then, shall they rue thy counsel, King of men!120 To whom the imperial leader of the Greeks. Thy sharp reproof, Ulysses, hath my soul Pierced deeply. Yet I gave no such command That the Achaians should their galleys launch, Would they, or would they not. No. I desire125 That young or old, some other may advice More prudent give, and he shall please me well. Then thus the gallant Diomede replied. That man is near, and may ye but be found Tractable, our inquiry shall be short.130 Be patient each, nor chide me nor reproach Because I am of greener years than ye, For I am sprung from an illustrious Sire, From Tydeus, who beneath his hill of earth Lies now entomb’d at Thebes. Three noble sons135 Were born to Portheus, who in Pleuro dwelt, And on the heights of Calydon; the first