Bold is the task when subjects, grown too wise,
Instruct a monarch where his error lies;
For though we deem the short-lived fury past,
'Tis sure the mighty will revenge at last.

To whom Pelides: From thy utmost soul Speak what thou know'st, and speak without control:

E'en by that god I swear, who rules the day,
To whom thy hands the vows of Greece convey,
And whose blest oracles thy lips declare;
Long as Achilles breathes the vital air,
No daring Greek of all the numerous band
Against his priest shall lift an impious hand;
Not e'en the chief by whom our hosts are led,
The king of kings, shall touch that sacred head.
Encourag'd thus, the blameless man replies:
Nor vows unpaid, nor slighted sacrifice,
But he, our chief, provok'd the raging pest;
Apollo's vengeance for his injur'd priest.
Nor will the god's awaken'd fury cease,

crease,

Till the great king, without a ransom paid,
To her own Chrysa send the black-eyed maid.
Perhaps, with added sacrifice and prayer,
The priest may pardon, and the god may spare.
The prophet spoke, when with a gloomy frown,
The monarch started from his shining throne:
Black choler fill'd his breast that burn'd with ire,
And from his eye-balls flash'd the living fire.
Augur accurst! denouncing mischief still;
Prophet of plagues, for ever boding ill!
Still must that tongue some wounding message
bring,

And still thy priestly pride provoke thy king?
For this are Phoebus' oracles explored,
To teach the Greeks to murmur at their lord?
For this with falsehoods is my honour stain'd,
Is heaven offended, and a priest profaned;
Because my prize, my beauteous maid, I hold,
And heavenly charms prefer to proffer'd gold?
A maid unmatch'd in manners as in face,
Skill'd in each art and crown'd with every grace.
Not half so dear were Clytemnestra's charms,
When first her blooming beauties blest my arms.
Yet if the gods demand her, let her sail;
Our cares are only for the public weal:
Let me be deem'd the hateful cause of all,
And suffer, rather than my people fall.
The prize, the beauteous prize, I will resign,
So dearly valued, and so justly mine.
But since for common good I yield the fair,
My private loss let grateful Greece repair;
Nor unrewarded let your prince complain,
That he alone has fought and bled in vain.
Insatiate king! (Achilles thus replies)
Fond of the pow'r, but fonder of the prize!
Would'st thou the Greeks their lawful prey should
yield,

The due reward of many a well-fought field?
The spoils of cities raz'd and warriors slain,
We share with justice, as with toil we gain :
But to resume whate'er thy avarice craves
(That trick of tyrants) may be borne by slaves.
Yet if our chief for plunder only fight,
The spoils of Ilion shall thy loss requite,

And some deputed prince the charge attend.
This Creta's king, or Ajax shall fulfil,
Or wise Ulysses see perform'd our will;
Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain,
Achilles' self conduct her o'er the main:
Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage,
The god propitiate, and the pest assuage.

At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied:
O tyrant, arm'd with insolence and pride!
Inglorious slave to interest, ever join'd
With fraud, unworthy of a royal mind!
What generous Greek, obedient to thy word,
Shall form an ambush, or shall lift the sword?
What cause have I to war at thy decree?
The distant Trojans never injur'd me:
To Phthia's realms no hostile troops they led;
Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed:
Far hence remov'd, the hoarse resounding main,
And walls of rocks, secure my native reign,
Whose fruitful soil luxuriant harvests grace,
Rich in her fruits, and in her martial race.
Hither we sail'd a voluntary throng,
T' avenge a private, not a public wrong;
What else to Troy th' assembled nations draws,
But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother's cause?
Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve;
Disgrac'd and injur'd by the man we serve?
And dar'st thou threat to snatch my prize away,
Due to the deeds of many a dreadful day?
A prize as small, O tyrant! match'd with thine,
As thy own actions if compared to mine.
Thine in each conquest is the wealthy prey,
Though mine the sweat and danger of the day.
Some trivial present to my ships I bear,
Or barren praises pay the wounds of war.
But know, proud monarch, I'm thy slave no more;
My fleet shall waft me to Thessalia's shore.
Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain,
What spoils, what conquests, shall Atrides gain?

To this the king. Fly, mighty warrior! fly! Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy. There want not chiefs in such a cause to fight; And Jove himself shall guard a monarch's right. Of all the kings (the gods' distinguish'd care) To power superior none such hatred bear:

Strife and debate thy restless soul employ,
And wars and horrors are thy savage joy.
If thou hast strength, 'twas heav'n that strength
bestow'd;

For know, vain man, thy valour is from God.
Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away,
Rule thy own realms with arbitrary sway:
I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate,
Thy short-liv'd friendship, and thy groundless
hate.

Go! threat thy earth-born Myrmidons; but here
'Tis mine to threaten, prince, and thine to fear.
Know if the god the beauteous dame demand,
My bark shall waft her to her native land;
But then prepare, imperious prince! prepare,
Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive fair;
E'en in thy tent I'll seize the blooming prize,
Thy lov'd Briseïs, with the radiant eyes.

He said, observant of the blue-eyed maid;
Then in the sheath return'd the shining blade.
The goddess swift to high Olympus flies,
And joins the sacred senate of the skies.

Nor yet the rage his boiling heart forsook,
Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke:
O monster! mix'd of insolence and fear,
Thou dog in forehead, but in heart a deer!
When wert thou known in ambush'd fights to
dare,

Or nobly face the horrid front of war?
'Tis ours the chance of fighting fields to try,
Thine to look on and bid the valiant die.
So much 'tis safer through the camp to go,
And rob a subject, than despoil a foe.
Scourge of thy people, violent and base!
Sent in Jove's anger on a slavish race,
Who, lost to sense of generous freedom past,

hour,

Thou stood'st a rival of imperial power;
And hence to all our host it shall be known,
That kings are subject to the gods alone.

Achilles heard, with grief and rage oppress'd His heart swell'd high, and labour'd in his breast,

Distracting thoughts by turns his bosom ruled,
Now fired by wrath, and now by reason cooled:
That prompts his hand to draw the deadly sword,
Force through the Greeks, and pierce their
haughty lord;

This whispers soft, his vengeance to control,
And calm the rising tempest of his soul.
Just as in anguish of suspense he stay'd,
While half unsheath'd appear'd the glittering
blade,

Minerva swift descended from above,
Sent by the sister and the wife of Jove;
(For both the princes claim'd her equal care,)
Behind she stood, and by the golden hair
Achilles seized; to him alone confess'd;
A sable cloud conceal'd her from the rest.
He sees, and sudden to the goddess cries,
Known by the flames that sparkle from her eyes.
Descends Minerva in her guardian care,
A heavenly witness of the wrongs I bear

Now by this sacred sceptre hear me swear,
Which never more shall leaves or blossoms bear,
Which sever'd from the trunk, (as I from thee,)
On the bare mountains left its parent tree;
This sceptre, form'd by temper'd steel, to prove
An ensign of the delegates of Jove,
From whom the power of laws and justice
springs

(Tremendous oath! inviolate to kings):
By this I swear, when bleeding Greece again
Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain.
When, flush'd with slaughter, Hector comes to
spread,

The purpled shore with mountains of the dead, Then shalt thou mourn th' affront thy niadness

gave,

Forc'd to deplore, when impotent to save:
Then rage in bitterness of soul, to know
This act has made the bravest Greek thy foe.
He spoke, and furious hurl'd against the

ground

The daring crime, behold the vengeance too.

Forbear! (the progeny of Jove replies,)

To calm thy fury I forsake the skies;
Let great Achilles, to the gods resign'd,
To reason yield the empire o'er his mind.
By awful Juno this command is given;
The king and you are both the care of heaven.
The force of keen reproaches let him feel,
But sheath obedient, thy revenging steel.
For I pronounce (and trust a heavenly power,)
Thy injured honour has its fated hour,
When the proud monarch shall thy arms implore,
And bribe thy friendship with a boundless store.
Then let revenge no longer bear the sway,
Command thy passions, and the gods obey.
To her Pelides. With regardful ear,
"Tis just, O goddess! I thy dictates hear:
Hard as it is, my vengeance I suppress:
Those who revere the gods, the gods will bless.

Two generations now had pass'd away,
Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway,
Two ages o'er his native realm he reign'd,
And now the example of the third remain'd.
All view'd with awe the venerable man;
Who thus with mild benevolence began:
What shame, what woe is this to Greece!
what joy

To Troy's proud monarch, and the friends of

Troy!

That adverse gods commit to stern debate,
The best, the bravest of the Grecian state.
Young as ye are this youthful heat restrain,
Nor think your Nestor's years and wisdom
vain.

A godlike race of heroes once I knew,

Such as no more these aged eyes shall view!
Lives there a chief to match Pirithous' fame,
Dryas the bold, or Ceneus' deathless name;

Or Polyphemus, like the gods in fight?
With these of old to toils of battle bred,
In early youth my hardy days I led;

Fir'd with the thirst which virtuous envy breeds,
And smit with love of honourable deeds.
Strongest of men, they pierc'd the mountain boar,
Rang'd the wild deserts red with monster's gore,
And from their hills the shaggy centaurs tore.
Yet these with soft persuasive arts I sway'd:
When Nestor spoke, they listened and obey'd.
If, in my youth, e'en these esteem'd me wise,
Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise.
Atrides, seize not on the beauteous slave,
That prize the Greeks by common suffrage gave:
Nor thou, Achilles, treat our prince with pride;
Let kings be just and sovereign power preside.
Thee the first honours of the war adorn,
Like gods in strength, and of a goddess born;
Him awful majesty exalts above

The pow'rs of earth, and scepter'd sons of Jove.
Let both unite, with well-consenting mind,
So shall authority with strength be join'd.
Leave me, O king! to calm Achilles' rage;
Rule thou thyself, as more advanced in age.
Forbid it gods! Achilles should be lost,
The pride of Greece, and bulwark of our host.
This said, he ceas'd. The king of men replies,
Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise:
But that imperious, that unconquer'd soul,
No laws can limit, no respect control.
Before his pride must his superiors fall,
His word the law, and he the lord of all?
Him must our hosts, our chiefs, ourselves obey?
What king can bear a rival in his sway?
Grant that the gods his matchless force hath giv'n,
Has foul reproach a privilege from heav'n?

Here on the monarch's speech Achilles broke,
And furious thus, and interrupting, spoke:
Tyrant, I well deserv'd thy galling chain,
To live thy slave, and still to serve in vain,
Should I submit to each unjust decree:
Command thy vassals, but command not me.
Seize on Briseïs, whom the Grecians doom'd
My prize of war, yet tamely see resum'd:
And seize secure: no more Achilles draws
His conquering sword in any woman's cause;
The gods command me to forgive the past,
But let this first invasion be the last:

For know, thy blood, when next thou dar'st invade,

Shall stream in vengeance on my reeking blade. At this they ceas'd: the stern debate expir'd: The chiefs in sullen majesty retir'd.

Achilles with Patroclus took his way, Where near his tents his hollow vessels lay. Meantime Atrides launch'd, with numerous oars, A well-rigg'd ship for Chrysa's sacred shores: High on the deck was fair Chryseïs plac'd, And sage Ulysses with the conduct grac'd: Safe in her sides the hecatomb they stow'd, Then swiftly sailing, cut the liquid road.

The host to expiate, next the king prepares, With pure lustrations and with solemn prayers. Wash d by the briny wave, the pious train Are cleans'd, and cast th' ablutions in the main.

And bulls and goats to Phœbus' altars paid.
The sable fumes in curling spires arise,
And waft their grateful odours to the skies.
The army thus, in sacred rites engag'd,
Atrides still with deep resentment rag'd.
To wait his will the sacred heralds stood,
Talthybius and Eurybates the good.
Haste to the fierce Achilles' tent (he cries)
Thence bear Briseïs as our royal prize:
Submit he must; or, if they will not part,
Ourself, in arms, shall tear her from his heart.
The unwilling heralds act their lord's com

mands,

Pensive they walk along the barren sands:
Arrived, the hero in his tent they find,
With gloomy aspect, on his arm reclin'd.
At awful distance long they silent stand,
Loth to advance, or speak their hard command;
Decent confusion! this the godlike man
Perceiv'd, and thus with accent mild began:
With leave and honour, enter our abodes
Ye sacred ministers of men and gods!

I know your message; by constraint you came;
Not you, but your imperious lord I blame.
Patroclus, haste, the fair Briseïs bring;
Conduct my captive to the haughty king.
But witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow;
Witness to gods above, and men below!
But first, and loudest, to your prince declare,
That lawless tyrant, whose commands you bear,
Unmov'd as death Achilles shall remain,
Though prostrate Greece should bleed at every
vein :

The raging chief, in frantic passion lost,
| Blind to himself, and useless to his host,
Unskill'd to judge the future by the past,
In blood and slaughter shall repent at last.

Patroclus now the unwilling beauty brought;
She, in soft sorrows, and in pensive thought,
Past silent, as the heralds held her hand.
And oft look'd back, slow moving o'er the strand.
Not so his loss the fierce Achilles bore;
But sad retiring to the sounding shore,
O'er the wild margin of the deep he hung,
That kindred deep from whence his mother

sprung;

There, bath'd in tears of anger and disdain,
Thus loud lamented to the stormy main:

O parent goddess! since in early bloom,
Thy son must fall, by too severe a doom;
Sure, to so short a race of glory born,
Great Jove, in justice, should this span adorn.
Honour and fame at least the Thunderer ow'd,
And ill he pays the promise of a god,
If yon proud monarch thus thy son defies,
Obscures my glories, and resumes my prize.
Far in the deep recesses of the main,
Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign,
The goddess mother heard. The waves divide;
And like a mist she rose above the tide;
Beheld him mourning to the naked shores,
And thus the sorrows of his soul explores:
Why grieves my son? Thy anguish let me
share,

Reveal the cause, and trust a parent's care.

Go, lest the haughty partner of my sway
With jealous eyes thy close access survey;
But part in peace, secure thy prayer is sped;
Witness the sacred honours of our head,
The nod that ratifies the will divine,
The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable, sign:
This seals thy suit, and this fulfils thy vows.—
He spoke, and awful bends his sable brows;
Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god:
High heaven with trembling the dread signal took,
And all Olympus to the centre shook.

Book II.

ULYSSES AND THERSITES.

The Greeks, in despair of taking Troy, resolve on return

Some, whom this conquering arm shall captive lead,

Or other Argive doomed for thee to bleed?
Seek'st thou a fresher fair to yield delight,
Hid in thy tent apart from public sight?
For ill beseems the guardian of our host,
By vile example, to corrupt us most.
Oh, Argive women! Argive men no more:
Let the fleet speed us to our native shore;
Leave him unsated here, though gorg'd with
spoil,

To learn if gained or not by Grecian toil.
His was the outrage, he Pelides shamed,
A warrior far o'er him in valour famed:
His now the vaunt to guard Briseïs' charms,
Reft by his rapine from that hero's arms!
A hero?-no! fear chains Achilles' force,

Ulysses.

Hɛ ran, he flew, through all the Grecian train:Each prince of name, or chief in arms approv'd, He fired with praise, or with persuasion mov'd. But if a clamorous, vile plebeian rose,

course!"

The scoffer ceased-with stern, contemptuous

eyes,

Ulysses viewed the wretch, and thus replies: "Peace, factious monster, born to vex the state, With wrangling talents formed for foul debate;

blows.

"Silence, base slave! and to thy betters yield,
Dolt, as thou art, in council and in field!
All cannot rule, and, least of all allow'd,
That worst of tyrants, an usurping crowd,
To one sole monarch Jove commits the sway;
His are the laws, and let us all obey."

The man who acts the least, and vaunts the

most!

ruled,

The loudest silenced, and the fiercest cooled,-
All but Thersites; he, above the throng,
Loquacious, loud, and turbulent of tongue;
Awed by no shame, by no respect controll'd,
In scandal busy, in reproaches bold;
With witty malice studious to defame,
Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim;
But chief he gloried, with licentious style,
To lash the great, and monarchs to revile.
His figure such as might his soul proclaim;
One eye was blinking, and one leg was lame;
The gibbous load, that either shoulder prest,
To close contraction pinch'd his pointed breast;
And on his sharp convexity of head,

Stray hairs, like wool, were here and there outspread;

Spleen to mankind his envious heart possest,
And much he hated all, but most, the best.
Ulysses or Achilles still his theme;

But royal scandal his delight supreme.
Long had he lived, the scorn of every Greek,
Vext when he spoke, yet still they heard him
speak.

Sharp was his voice; which, in the shrillest tone,
Thus with injurious taunts attacked the throne:
"Amidst the glories of so bright a reign,
What moves the great Atrides to complain?
Selected beauties, each a city's pride,
We, by our valour, for thy choice provide.

But mark my word, nor think the warning vain;
If here I find thee, raving thús again,
Low lie my brow!-May I at once expire,
And loved Telemachus disown his sire,
If stript and scourged, and writhing in thy pain,
I drive thee not back howling to the main."
He said; and, writhing as the dastard bends,
The weighty sceptre on his back descends;
On his round bunch the bloody tumours rise,
While tears spring starting from his haggard eyes;
Trembling he sat, and, shrunk in abject fears,
From his foul visage wiped the scalding tears.
The host, though grieved, his moans with laugh-
ter heard;

While burst from lip to lip the scornful word:-
"Great deeds and oft Laertes' son has wrought,
To war renown, to council wisdom, brought;
But this far all transcends; the scoffer's jest,
And base garrulity, at once represt.
Such just examples, on offenders shown,
Sedition silence and assert the throne."

Book III.

HELEN, WITH PRIAM AND THE ELDERS, BEFORE THE SCEAN-GATE.

raise,

Which for his ransom'd sons the Trojan pays?

The roof that rear'd her, and the hearth that blest: