Athena: Whither away from the Trojan ranks, with sorrow gnawing at
your hearts, because fortune granteth not you twain to slay Hector
or Paris? Have ye not heard that Rhesus is come to succour Troy in
no mean sort? If he survive this night until to-morrow's dawn, neither
Achilles nor Aias, stout spearman, can stay him from utterly destroying
the Argive fleet, razing its palisades and carrying the onslaught
of his lance far and wide within the gates; slay him, and all is thine;
let Hector's sleep alone, nor hope to leave him a weltering trunk,
for he shall find death at another hand.
Odysseus: Queen Athena, 'tis the well-known accent of thy voice I
hear; for thou art ever at my side to help me in my toil. Tell us
where the warrior lies asleep, in what part of the barbarian army
he is stationed.
Athena: Here lies he close at hand, not marshalled with the other
troops, but outside the ranks hath Hector given him quarters, till
night gives place to day. And nigh him are tethered his white steeds
to his Thracian chariot, easy to see in the darkness; glossy white
are they like to the plumage of a river swan. Slay their master and
bear them off, a glorious prize to any home, for nowhere else in all
the world is such a splendid team to be found.