And come, let us excite one more, to counsel of some end To our extremes, by fight, or flight.” He back, and took his shield, And both took course to Diomed. They found him laid in field, Far from his tent; his armour by; about him was dispread A ring of soldiers, ev’ry man his shield beneath his head; His spear fix’d by him as he slept, the great end in the ground, The point, that bristled the dark earth, cast a reflection round Like palid lightnings thrown from Jove; thus this heroë lay, And under him a big ox-hide; his royal head had stay On arras hangings, rolléd up; whereon he slept so fast, That Nestor stirr’d him with his foot, and chid to see him cast In such deep sleep in such deep woes, and ask’d him why he spent All night in sleep, or did not hear the Trojans near his tent, Their camp drawn close upon their dike, small space ’twixt foes and foes? He, starting up, said, “Strange old man, that never tak’st repose, Thou art too patient of our toil. Have we not men more young, To be employ’d from king to king? Thine age hath too much wrong.” “Said like a king,” replied the sire, “for I have sons renown’d, And there are many other men, might go this toilsome round; But, you must see, imperious Need hath all at her command. Now on the eager razor’s edge, for life or death, we stand[2] Then go (thou art the younger man) and if thou love my ease, Call swift-foot Ajax up thyself, and young Phyleides.” This said, he on his shoulders cast a yellow lion’s hide, Big, and reach’d earth; then took his spear, and Nestor’s will applied, Rais’d the heroes, brought them both. All met; the round they went, And found not any captain there asleep or negligent, But waking, and in arms, gave ear to ev’ry lowest sound. And as keen dogs keep sheep in cotes, or folds of hurdles bound, And grin at ev’ry breach of air, envious of all that moves, Still list’ning when the rav’nous beast stalks through the hilly groves, Then men and dogs stand on their guards, and mighty tumults make, Sleep wanting weight to close one wink; so did the captains wake, That kept the watch the whole sad night, all with intentive ear Converted to the enemies’ tents, that they might timely hear If they were stirring to surprise; which Nestor joy’d to see. “Why so, dear sons, maintain your watch, sleep not a wink,” said he, “Rather than make your fames the scorn of Trojan perjury.” This said, he foremost passed the dike, the others seconded, Ev’n all the kings that had been call’d to council from the bed, And with them went Meriones, and Nestor’s famous son; For both were call’d by all the kings to consultation. Beyond the dike they choos’d a place, near as they could from blood, Where yet appear’d the falls of some, and whence, the crimson flood Of Grecian lives being pour’d on earth by Hector’s furious chace, He made retreat, when night repour’d grim darkness in his face. There sat they down, and Nestor spake: “O friends, remains not one