And then the old leader of the Achaian fleet,
Disparaging no seer --
With bated breath to suit misfortune's inrush here
-- (What time it laboured, that Achaian host,
By stay from sailing, -- every pulse at length
Emptied of vital strength, --
Hard over Kalchis shore-bound, current-crost
In Aulis station, -- while the winds which post
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