Classic Poem

" Lead forth my gallant myrmidons
The battle shock to meet,
For the dark cloud of Trojan war
Hangs grimly o'er our fleet:
The Argive troops are fettered in
Along the ocean strand,
Scantly maintaining as their own,
That narrow strip of land:
But the whole of Troy is rushing on,
Without a thought of fear;
No longer see they now the front
Of my helmet blazing near.
Had the king's words to me been mild,
How soon they would have fled,
And left the trenches in our camp
Filled to the brim with dead:
Now, though they hem our army round,
No Diomed is near;
Not in his hands to save and guard,
Flashes the ravening spear.
From the hated head of Agamemnon,
I hear no shouts resound;
But those of the man-quelling Hector
Are bursting loud around;
He calls his Trojans on, and they
With a cry of wild delight
Cover the whole of the wide plain,
Conquering the Greeks in fight.