Unless the heralds (messengers of Gods and godlike men) The one of Troy, the other Greece, had held betwixt them then Imperial sceptres; when the one, Idæus, grave and wise, Said to them: “Now no more, my sons; the Sov’reign of the skies Doth love you both; both soldiers are, all witness with good right; But now night lays her mace on earth; ’tis good t’ obey the night.” “Idæus,” Telamon replied, “to Hector speak, not me; He that call’d all our Achive peers to station-fight, ’twas he; If he first cease, I gladly yield.” Great Hector then began: “Ajax, since Jove, to thy big form, made thee so strong a man, And gave thee skill to use thy strength, so much, that for thy spear Thou art most excellent of Greece, now let us fight forbear. Hereafter we shall war again, till Jove our herald be, And grace with conquest which he will. Heav’n yields to night, and we. Go thou and comfort all thy fleet, all friends and men of thine, As I in Troy my favourers, who in the fane divine Have offer’d orisons for me; and come, let us impart Some ensigns of our strife, to show each other’s suppled heart, That men of Troy and Greece may say, Thus their high quarrel ends. Those that, encount’ring, were such foes, are now, being sep’rate, friends,” He gave a sword, whose handle was with silver studs through driv’n,[5] Scabbard and all, with hangers rich. By Telamon was giv’n A fair well-glosséd purple waist. Thus Hector went to Troy, And after him a multitude, fill’d with his safety’s joy, Despairing he could ever ’scape the puissant fortitude And unimpeachéd Ajax’ hands. The Greeks like joy renew’d For their reputed victory, and brought him to the king; Who to the great Saturnides preferr’d an offering, An ox that fed on five fair springs; they flay’d and quarter’d him,[6] And then, in pieces cut, on spits they roasted ev’ry limb; Which neatly dress’d, they drew it off. Work done, they fell to feast; All had enough; but Telamon, the king fed past the rest With good large pieces of the chine. Thus thirst and hunger stay’d, Nestor, whose counsels late were best, vows new, and first he said: “Atrides, and my other lords, a sort of Greeks are dead, Whose black blood, near Scamander’s stream, inhuman Mars hath shed; Their souls to hell descended are. It fits thee then, our king, To make our soldiers cease from war; and, by the day’s first spring, Let us ourselves, assembled all, the bodies bear to fire, With mules and oxen near our fleet, that, when we home retire, Each man may carry to the sons, of fathers slaughter’d here, Their honour’d bones. One tomb for all, for ever, let us rear, Circling the pile without the field; at which we will erect Walls, and a rav’lin, that may safe our fleet and us protect. And in them let us fashion gates, solid, and barr’d about, Through which our horse, and chariots, may well get in and out. Without all, let us dig a dike, so deep it may avail Our forces ’gainst the charge of horse, and foot, that come t’ assail.