O Zeus above, who checked my conquering way,Who baulked the hungry lion of his preyOr ever I could sweep my country clearOf these despoilers, dost thou hate my spear?Had but the sun’s bright arrows failed me not,I ne’er had rested till the ships were hotWith fire, and through the tents upon the plainThis bloody hand had passed and passed again!Myself, I longed to try the battle-castBy night, and use God’s vantage to the last,But sage and prophet, learned in the wayOf seercraft, bade me wait for dawn of day,And then—leave no Greek living in the land.They wait not, they, for what my prophets plannedSo sagely. In the dark a runawayBeats a pursuer.Through our whole arraySend runners! Bid them shake off sleep and waitReady with shield and spear. ’Tis not too lateTo catch them as they climb on board, and slash