We find the foe not fled, but turned to strike; One check there, and all hope of good return Is gone. How can our men, returning, learn The tricks of the palisade? The chariots how Keep to the bridges on the trenches’ brow, Save with jammed wheels and broken axles? Aye, And say thou conquer: other wars yet lie Before thee. Peleus’ son, for all his ire, Will never let thee touch the ships with fire Or pounce on his Greek lambs. The man will bide No wrong and standeth on a tower of pride. Nay, brother, let the army, head on shield, Sleep off its long day’s labour in the field: Then, send a spy; find someone who will dare Creep to yon Argive camp. Then, if ’tis clear They mean flight, on and smite them as they fly. Else, if the beacons hide some strategy, The spy will read it out, and we can call A council.—Thus speak I, my general. CHORUS. [Strophe. ’Tis good! ’Tis wisdom! Prince, give heed And change the word thy passion gave. No soldier loveth, in his need, The glory of a chief too brave. A spy is best: a spy, to learn For what strange work those beacons burn All night beside the guarded wave. HECTOR. Ye all so wish it?—Well, ye conquer me. (To AENEAS) Go thou and calm the allies. There will be Some stir among them, hearing of these high And midnight councils.—I will seek the spy