groaning, thus opprobrious spoke: "Women of Greece! O scandal of your race, Whose coward souls your manly form disgrace, How great the shame, when every age shall know That not a Grecian met this noble foe! Go then! resolve to earth, from whence ye grew, A heartless, spiritless, inglorious crew! Be what ye seem, unanimated clay, Myself will dare the danger of the day; 'Tis man's bold task the generous strife to try, But in the hands of God is victory." These words scarce spoke, with generous ardour press'd, His manly limbs in azure arms he dress'd. That day, Atrides! a superior hand Had stretch'd thee breathless on the hostile strand; But all at once, thy fury to compose, The kings of Greece, an awful band, arose; Even he their chief, great Agamemnon, press'd Thy daring hand, and this advice address'd: "Whither, O Menelaus! wouldst thou run, And tempt a fate which prudence bids thee shun? Grieved though thou art, forbear the rash design; Great Hectors arm is mightier far than thine: Even fierce Achilles learn'd its force to fear, And trembling met this dreadful son of war. Sit thou secure, amidst thy social band; Greece in our cause shall arm some powerful hand. The mightiest warrior of the Achaian name, Though bold and burning with desire of fame, Content the doubtful honour might forego, So great the danger, and so brave the foe." He said, and turn'd his brother's vengeful mind; He stoop'd to reason, and his rage resign'd, No longer bent to rush on certain harms; His joyful friends unbrace his azure arms. He from whose lips divine persuasion flows, Grave Nestor, then, in graceful act arose; Thus to the kings he spoke: "What grief, what shame Attend on Greece, and all the Grecian name! How shall, alas! her hoary heroes mourn Their sons degenerate, and their race a scorn! What tears shall down thy silvery beard be roll'd, O Peleus, old in arms, in wisdom old! Once with what jo