That for your life you cannot put your diligent’st thought betwixt The Greeks and Trojans, and as close their throats cleave to the sky. Consult we then, if that will serve. For fight advise not I; It fits not wounded men to fight.” Atrides answer’d him: “If such a wall as cost the Greeks so many a tiréd limb, And such a dike be pass’d, and raz’d, that, as yourself said well, We all esteem’d invincible, and would past doubt repell The world from both our fleet and us; it doth directly show That here Jove vows our shames and deaths. I evermore did know His hand from ours when he help’d us, and now I see as clear That, like the blesséd Gods, he holds our hated enemies dear, Supports their arms, and pinions ours. Conclude then, ’tis in vain To strive with him. Our ships drawn up, now let us launch again, And keep at anchor till calm night, that then, perhaps, our foes May calm their storms, and in that time our scape we may dispose. ‘It is not any shame to fly from ill, although by night. Known ill he better does that flies, than he it takes in fight.’” Ulysses frown’d on him, and said: “Accurs’d, why talk’st thou thus? Would thou hadst led some barb’rous host, and not commanded us Whom Jove made soldiers from our youth, that age might scorn to fly From any charge it undertakes, and ev’ry dazzled eye The honour’d hand of war might close. Thus wouldst thou leave this town, For which our many mis’ries felt entitle it our own? Peace, lest some other Greek give ear, and hear a sentence such; As no man’s palate should profane; at least that knew how much His own right weigh’d, and being a prince, and such a prince as bears Rule of so many Greeks as thou. This counsel loathes mine ears, Let others toil in fight and cries, and we so light of heels Upon their very noise, and groans, to hoise away our keels. Thus we should fit the wish of Troy, that, being something near The victory, we give it clear; and we were sure to bear A slaughter to the utmost man, for no man will sustain A stroke, the fleet gone, but at that, look still, and wish him slain. And therefore, prince of men, be sure, thy censure is unfit.” “O Ithacus,” replied the king, “thy bitter terms have smit My heart in sunder. At no hand, ’gainst any prince’s will Do I command this. Would to God, that any man of skill To give a better counsel would, or old, or younger man! My voice should gladly go with his.” Then Diomed began: “The man not far is, nor shall ask much labour to bring in, That willingly would speak his thoughts, if spoken they might win Fit ear, and suffer no impair, that I discover them, Being youngest of you; since my sire, that heir’d a diadem, May make my speech to diadems decent enough, though he Lies in his sepulchre at Thebes. I boast this pedigree: Portheus three famous sons begot, that in high Calydon And Pleuron kept, with state of kings, their habitatión; Agrius, Melas, and the third the horseman Oeneus, My father’s father, that excell’d in actions generous