MIN. With affliction stung,
Why from the Trojan camp do ye retire?
Although the gods forbid you to destroy
Hector or Paris, heard ye not that Rhesus,
A mighty chief, with numerous troops is come
To Troy? If he outlives this night, nor Ajax,
Nor can Achilles hinder him from wasting
The camp of Greece, demolishing your walls,
And forcing a wide passage through your gates
With his victorious spear: him slay, and all
Is yours; but go not to the couch of Hector,
Nor hope to leave that chief a weltering trunk,
For he must perish by another hand.
ULY. Dread goddess, O Minerva, I distinguished
Thy well-known voice: for midst unnumbered toils
Thou ever dost support me: but, oh say,
Where sleeps the mighty warrior thou hast named,
And in what part of the barbarian host
Have they assigned his station?
MIN. Near at hand,
And separate from the Phrygian troops, he lies;
Hector hath placed him just without the lines
Till morn arise; conspicuous in the gloom
Of night, and close beside their sleeping lord,
Yoked to the car his Thracian coursers stand,
White as the glossy plumage of the swan:
Them bear away when ye have slain their lord,
A glorious prize, for the whole world can boast
No car beside drawn by such beauteous steeds.
ULY. Either do thou, O Diomede, transpierce
The Thracian soldiers, or to me consign
That task; meanwhile seize thou the steeds.
DIO. To slay
The foe be mine; do you the coursers guide,
For you are practised in each nicer art,
And quick of apprehension. To each man
Should that peculiar station be assigned
In which he can be useful.
MIN. But to us
Paris I see is coming, who hath heard
A doubtful rumour from the watch, that foes
Enter the trenches.
DIO. Hath he any comrade,
Or marches he alone?
MIN. Alone he seems
To go to Hector’s chamber, to announce
That there are foes discovered in the camp.
DIO. Is it not first ordained that he shall die?
MIN. You can no more, the Destinies forbid:
For Hector must not perish by your hand;
But haste to him on whom ye came to wreak
Fate’s dreadful purposes: myself meanwhile
Assuming Venus’ form, who ’midst the toils
Of battle by her tutelary care
Protects him, will with empty words detain
Paris your foe. Thus much have I declared:
Yet he, whom you must smite, though near at hand,
Nor knows, nor hears, the words which I have uttered.
[_Exeunt_ ULYSSES _and_ DIOMEDE.