He wept profuse, while many a bloody whelk
Protuberant beneath the sceptre sprang. 
Awe-quell’d he sat, and from his visage mean,
Deep-sighing, wiped the rheums.  It was no time 325
For mirth, yet mirth illumined every face,
And laughing, thus they spake.  A thousand acts
Illustrious, both by well-concerted plans
And prudent disposition of the host
Ulysses hath achieved, but this by far 330
Transcends his former praise, that he hath quell’d
Such contumelious rhetoric profuse. 
The valiant talker shall not soon, we judge,
Take liberties with royal names again.[10]
So spake the multitude.  Then, stretching forth 335
The sceptre, city-spoiler Chief, arose
Ulysses.  Him beside, herald in form,
Appeared Minerva.  Silence she enjoined
To all, that all Achaia’s sons might hear,
Foremost and rearmost, and might weigh his words. 340
He then his counsel, prudent, thus proposed. 
Atrides!  Monarch!  The Achaians seek
To make thee ignominious above all
In sight of all mankind.  None recollects
His promise more in steed-famed Argos pledged, 345
Here to abide till Ilium wall’d to heaven
Should vanquish’d sink, and all her wealth be ours. 
No—­now, like widow’d women, or weak boys,
They whimper to each other, wishing home. 
And home, I grant, to the afflicted soul 350
Seems pleasant.[11] The poor seaman from his wife
One month detain’d, cheerless his ship and sad
Possesses, by the force of wintry blasts,
And by the billows of the troubled deep
Fast lock’d in port.  But us the ninth long year 355
Revolving, finds camp’d under Ilium still. 
I therefore blame not, if they mourn beside
Their sable barks, the Grecians.  Yet the shame
That must attend us after absence long
Returning unsuccessful, who can bear? 360
Be patient, friends! wait only till we learn
If Calchas truly prophesied, or not;
For well we know, and I to all appeal,
Whom Fate hath not already snatch’d away,
(It seems but yesterday, or at the most 365
A day or two before) that when the ships
Wo-fraught for Priam, and the race of Troy,
At Aulis met, and we beside the fount
With perfect hecatombs the Gods adored
Beneath the plane-tree, from whose root a stream 370
Ran crystal-clear, there we beheld a sign
Wonderful in all eyes.  A serpent huge,
Tremendous spectacle! with crimson spots
His back all dappled, by Olympian Jove
Himself protruded, from the altar’s foot 375
Slipp’d into light, and glided to the tree. 
There on the topmost bough, close-cover’d sat
With foliage broad, eight sparrows, younglings all,
Then newly feather’d, with their dam, the ninth. 
The little ones lamenting shrill he gorged,