To whom great Agamemnon thus replied. 

Heaven-favor’d Menelaus!  We have need,
Thou and myself, of some device well-framed,
Which both the Grecians and the fleet of Greece 50
May rescue, for the mind of Jove hath changed,
And Hector’s prayers alone now reach his ear. 
I never saw, nor by report have learn’d
From any man, that ever single chief
Such awful wonders in one day perform’d 55
As he with ease against the Greeks, although
Nor from a Goddess sprung nor from a God. 
Deeds he hath done, which, as I think, the Greeks
Shall deep and long lament, such numerous ills
Achaia’s host hath at his hands sustain’d. 60
But haste, begone, and at their several ships
Call Ajax and Idomeneus; I go
To exhort the noble Nestor to arise,
That he may visit, if he so incline,
The chosen band who watch, and his advice 65
Give them; for him most prompt they will obey,
Whose son, together with Meriones,
Friend of Idomeneus, controls them all,
Entrusted by ourselves with that command. 

    Him answer’d Menelaus bold in arms. 70

Explain thy purpose.  Wouldst thou that I wait
Thy coming, there, or thy commands to both
Given, that I incontinent return? 

    To whom the Sovereign of the host replied. 

There stay; lest striking into different paths 75
(For many passes intersect the camp)
We miss each other; summon them aloud
Where thou shalt come; enjoin them to arise;
Call each by his hereditary name,
Honoring all.  Beware of manners proud, 80
For we ourselves must labor, at our birth
By Jove ordain’d to suffering and to toil. 

    So saying, he his brother thence dismiss’d

Instructed duly, and himself, his steps
Turned to the tent of Nestor.  Him he found 85
Amid his sable galleys in his tent
Reposing soft, his armor at his side,
Shield, spears, bright helmet, and the broider’d belt
Which, when the Senior arm’d led forth his host
To fight, he wore; for he complied not yet 90
With the encroachments of enfeebling age. 
He raised his head, and on his elbow propp’d,
Questioning Agamemnon, thus began. 

    But who art thou, who thus alone, the camp

Roamest, amid the darkness of the night, 95
While other mortals sleep?  Comest thou abroad
Seeking some friend or soldier of the guard? 
Speak—­come not nearer mute.  What is thy wish? 

    To whom the son of Atreus, King of men. 

Oh Nestor, glory of the Grecian name, 100
Offspring of Neleus! thou in me shalt know
The son of Atreus, Agamemnon, doom’d
By Jove to toil, while life shall yet inform
These limbs, or I shall draw the vital air.