Through four ranks now did Diomed the king himself attain, Who, snoring in his sweetest sleep, was like his soldiers slain. An ill dream by Minerva sent that night stood by his head, Which was Oenides’ royal, unconquer’d Diomed. Meanwhile Ulysses loos’d his horse, took all their reins in hand, And led them forth; but Tydeus’ son did in contention stand With his great mind to do some deed of more audacity; If he should take the chariot, where his rich arms did lie, And draw it by the beam away, or bear it on his back, Or if, of more dull Thracian lives, he should their bosoms sack. In this contention with himself, Minerva did suggest And bade him think of his retreat; lest from their tempted rest Some other God should stir the foe, and send him back dismay’d. He knew the voice, took horse, and fled. The Trojan’s heav’nly aid, Apollo with the silver bow, stood no blind sentinel To their secure and drowsy host, but did discover well Minerva following Diomed; and, angry with his act, The mighty host of Ilion he enter’d, and awak’d The cousin-german of the king, a counsellor of Thrace, Hippocoon; who when he rose, and saw the desert place, Where Rhesus’ horse did use to stand, and th’ other dismal harms, Men struggling with the pangs of death, he shriek’d out thick alarms, Call’d “Rhesus! Rhesus!” but in vain; then still, “Arm! Arm!” he cried. The noise and tumult was extreme on every startled side Of Troy’s huge host; from whence in throngs all gather’d, and admir’d Who could perform such harmful facts, and yet be safe retir’d, Now, coming where they slew the scout, Ulysses stay’d the steeds, Tydides lighted, and the spoils, hung on the tamrick reeds, He took and gave to Ithacus, and up he got again. Then flew they joyful to their fleet. Nestor did first attain The sounds the horse-hoofs strook through air, and said: “My royal peers! Do I but dote, or say I true? Methinks about mine ears The sounds of running horses beat. O would to God they were Our friends thus soon return’d with spoils! But I have hearty fear, Lest this high tumult of the foe doth their distress intend.” He scarce had spoke, when they were come. Both did from horse descend. All, with embraces and sweet words, to heav’n their worth did raise. Then Nestor spake: “Great Ithacus, ev’n heap’d with Grecian praise, How have you made these horse your prise? Pierc’d you the dang’rous host, Where such gems stand? Or did some God your high attempts accost, And honour’d you with this reward? Why, they be like the rays The sun effuseth. I have mix’d with Trojans all my days; And now, I hope you will not say, I always lie aboard, Though an old soldier I confess; yet did all Troy afford Never the like to any sense that ever I possess’d. But some good God, no doubt, hath met, and your high valours bless’d, For He that shadows heav’n with clouds loves both as his delights, And She that supples earth with blood cannot forbear your sights.”