And to the ships and tents he march’d, yet more to make inclin’d The Grecians to the Trojan bane. In hasting to which end, Idomenëus met with him, returning from a friend, Whose ham late hurt, his men brought off; and having giv’n command To his physicians for his cure, much fir’d to put his hand To Troy’s repulse, he left his tent. Him (like Andremon’s son, Prince Thoas, that in Pleuron rul’d, and lofty Calydon, Th’ Ætolian pow’rs, and like a God was of his subjects lov’d) Neptune encounter’d, and but thus his forward spirit mov’d: “Idomenëus, prince of Crete! O whither now are fled Those threats in thee, with which the rest the Trojans menacéd?” “O Thoas,” he replied, “no one of all our host stands now In any question of reproof, as I am let to know, And why is my intelligence false? We all know how to fight, And, (fear disanimating none) all do our knowledge right. Nor can our harms accuse our sloth, not one from work we miss. The great God only works our ill, whose pleasure now it is That, far from home, in hostile fields, and with inglorious fate, Some Greeks should perish. But do thou, O Thoas, that of late Hast prov’d a soldier, and was wont, where thou hast sloth beheld, To chide it, and exhort to pains, now hate to be repell’d, And set on all men.” He replied, “I would to heav’n, that he, Whoever this day doth abstain from battle willingly, May never turn his face from Troy, but here become the prey And scorn of dogs! Come then, take arms, and let our kind assay Join both our forces. Though but two, yet, being both combin’d, The work of many single hands we may perform. We find, That virtue co-augmented thrives in men of little mind, But we have singly match’d the great.” Thus said, the God again, With all his conflicts, visited the vent’rous flight of men. The king turn’d to his tent; rich arms put on his breast, and took Two darts in hand, and forth he flew. His haste on made him look Much like a fi’ry meteor, with which Jove’s sulph’ry hand Opes heav’n, and hurls about the air bright flashes, showing aland Abodes that ever run before tempest and plagues to men: So, in his swift pace, show’d his arms. He was encounter’d then By his good friend Meriones yet near his tent; to whom Thus spake the pow’r of Idomen: “What reason makes thee come, Thou son of Molus, my most lov’d, thus leaving fight alone? Is’t for some wound? The jav’lin’s head, still sticking in the bone, Desir’st thou ease of? Bring’st thou news? Or what is it that brings Thy presence hither? Be assur’d, my spirit needs no stings To this hot conflict. Of myself thou seest I come, and loth, For any tent’s love, to deserve the hateful taint of sloth.” He answer’d: Only for a dart, he that retreat did make, (Were any left him at his tent) for, that he had, he brake On proud Deiphobus’s shield. “Is one dart all?” said he, “Take one and twenty, if thou like, for in my tent they be; They stand there shining by the walls. I took them as my prise