To him experienced Nestor thus rejoin’d: “O friend! what sorrows dost thou bring to mind! Shall I the long, laborious scene review, And open all the wounds of Greece anew? What toils by sea! where dark in quest of prey Dauntless we roved; Achilles led the way; What toils by land! where mix’d in fatal fight Such numbers fell, such heroes sunk to night; There Ajax great, Achilles there the brave, There wise Patroclus, fill an early grave: There, too, my son—ah, once my best delight Once swift of foot, and terrible in fight; In whom stern courage with soft virtue join’d A faultless body and a blameless mind; Antilochus—What more can I relate? How trace the tedious series of our fate? Not added years on years my task could close, The long historian of my country’s woes; Back to thy native islands might’st thou sail, And leave half-heard the melancholy tale. Nine painful years on that detested shore; What stratagems we form’d, what toils we bore! Still labouring on, till scarce at last we found Great Jove propitious, and our conquest crown’d. Far o’er the rest thy mighty father shined, In wit, in prudence, and in force of mind. Art thou the son of that illustrious sire? With joy I grasp thee, and with love admire. So like your voices, and your words so wise, Who finds thee younger must consult his eyes. Thy sire and I were one; nor varied aught In public sentence, or in private thought; Alike to council or the assembly came, With equal souls, and sentiments the same. But when (by wisdom won) proud Ilion burn’d, And in their ships the conquering Greeks return’d, ’Twas God’s high will the victors to divide, And turn the event, confounding human pride; Some he destroy’d, some scatter’d as the dust (Not all were prudent, and not all were just). Then Discord, sent by Pallas from above, Stern daughter of the great avenger Jove, The brother-kings inspired with fell debate; Who call’d to council all the Achaian state, But call’d untimely (not the sacred rite Observed, nor heedful of the setting light, Nor herald sword the session to proclaim), Sour with debauch, a reeling tribe they came. To these the cause of meeting they explain, And Menelaus moves to cross the main; Not so the king of men: he will’d to stay, The sacred rites and hecatombs to pay, And calm Minerva’s wrath. Oh blind to fate! The gods not lightly change their love, or hate. With ireful taunts each other they oppose, Till in loud tumult all the Greeks arose. Now different counsels every breast divide, Each burns with rancour to the adverse side; The unquiet night strange projects entertain’d (So Jove, that urged us to our fate, ordain’d). We with the rising morn our ships unmoor’d, And brought our captives and our stores aboard; But half the people with respect obey’d The king of men, and at his bidding stay’d. Now on the wings of winds our course we keep (For God had smooth’d the waters of the deep); For Tenedos we spread our eager oars, There land, and pay due victims to the powers;