n journey; but Tydeus slew every man of them,
save only Maeon, whom he let go in obedience to heaven's omens. Such
was Tydeus of Aetolia. His son can talk more glibly, but he cannot
fight as his father did."

Diomed made no answer, for he was shamed by the rebuke of Agamemnon;
but the son of Capaneus took up his words and said, "Son of Atreus,
tell no lies, for you can speak truth if you will. We boast ourselves
as even better men than our fathers; we took seven-gated Thebes, though
the wall was stronger and our men were fewer in number, for we trusted
in the omens of the gods and in the help of Jove, whereas they perished
through their own sheer folly; hold not, then, our fathers in like
honour with us."

Diomed looked sternly at him and said, "Hold your peace, my friend, as
I bid you. It is not amiss that Agamemnon should urge the Achaeans
forward, for the glory will be his if we take the city, and his the
shame if we are vanquished. Therefore let us acquit ourselves with
valour."

As he spoke he sprang from his chariot, and his armour rang so fiercely
about his body that even a brave man might well have been scared to
hear it.

As when some mighty wave that thunders on the beach when the west wind
has lashed it into fury--it has reared its head afar and now comes
crashing down on the shore; it bows its arching crest high over the
jagged rocks and spews its salt foam in all directions--even so did the
serried phalanxes of the Danaans march steadfastly to battle. The
chiefs gave orders each to his own people, but the men said never a
word; no man would think it, for huge as the host was, it seemed as
though there was not a tongue among them, so silent were they in their
obedience; and as they marched the armour about their bodies glistened
in the sun. But the clamour of the Trojan ranks was as that of many
thousand ewes that stand waiting to be milked in the yards of some rich
flockmaster, and bleat incessantly in answer to the bleating of their
lambs; for they had not one speech nor language, but their tongues were
diverse, and they came from many different places. These were inspired
of Mars, but the others by Minerva--and with them came Panic, Rout, and
Strife whose fury never tires, sister and friend of murderous Mars,
who, from being at first but low in stature, grows till she uprears her
head to heaven, though her feet are still on earth. She it was that
went about among them and flung down discord to the wa