Augur of ills, (for never good to me
Did that most inauspicious voice decree)
• For ever ready to denounce my woes,
When Greece is punifh'd, I am still the cause ;
And now when Phoebus spreads his plagues abroad,
And waftes our camp, 'tis I provoke the god,
• Because my blooming captive I detain,
And the large ranfom is produc'd in vain.
Fond of the maid, my queen, in beauty's pride,
Ne'er charm'd me more, a virgin and a bride;
Not Clytemnestra boasts a nobler race,
A fweeter temper, or a lovelier face,

In works of female fkill hath more command,
Or guides the needle with a nicer hand.
Yet fhe fhall go. The fair our peace shall buy:
Better I fuffer, than my people die.

But mark me well. See inftantly prepar'd
A full equivalent, a new reward.

Nor is it meet, while each enjoys his fhare,

• Your chief should lofe his portion of the war:
In vain your chief; whilft the dear prize, I boast,
Is wrefted from me, and for ever loft.'
To whom the fwift purfuer quick reply'd :
Oh funk in avarice, and fwoln with pride!
How fhall the Greeks, though large of foul they be,
Collect their fever'd fpoils, a heap for thee

• To fearch anew,

and cull the choiceft share

Amid the mighty harveft of the war?

• Then yield thy captive, to the god refign'd, • Affur'd a tenfold recompence to find,

• When

When Jove's decree shall throw proud Ilion down, And give to plunder the devoted town.'

Think not, Atrides answer'd, though thou shine, Graceful in beauty, like the powers divine, Think not, thy wiles, in fpecious words convey'd, From its firm purpose shall my foul diffuade. 'Muft I alone bereft fit down with thame, And thou infulting keep thy captive dame ? If, as I ask, the large-foul'd Greeks confent Full recompence to give, I ftand content. If not a prize I shall myself decree,

From him, or him, or elfe perhaps from thee. While the proud prince, despoil'd, shall rage in vain. But break we here. The reft let time explain. Launch now a well-trim'd galley from the shore, With hands experienc'd at the bending oar: Inclose the hecatomb; and then with care To the high deck convey the captive fair. • The facred bark let fage Ulyffes guide, Or Ajax, or Idomeneus, prefide:

'Or thou, O mighty man, the chief shalt be. And who more fit to foothe the god than thee?'

Shameless, and poor of foul,' the prince replies,

And on the monarch cafts his fcornful eyes,

• What Greek henceforth will march at thy command, 'In fearch of danger on the doubtful strand? Who in the face of day provoke the fight, Or tempt the fecret ambush of the night? Not I, be fure. Henceforward I am free. For ne'er was Priam's houfe a foe to me.

Far

6

Far from their inroads, in my pastures feed
The lowing heifer, and the pamper'd steed,
• On Phthia's hills our fruits fecurely grow,
And ripen careless of the diftant foe,
Between whofe realms and our Theffalian fhore
Unnumber'd mountains rife, and billows roar.
For thine, and for thy baffled brother's fame,
Acrofs thofe feas, difdainful man, I came;
Yet, infolent by arbitrary sway,

• Thou talk'st of feizing on my rightful prey, • The prize whofe purchase toils and dangers coft, And given by fuffrage of the Grecian host. What town, when fack'd by our victorious bands, But fill brought wealth to thofe rapacious hands? To me, thus fcorn'd, contented doft thou yield "My fhare of blood in the tumultuous field; But ftill the flower of all the spoil is thine; There claim'ft thou moft, Nor eer did I repine. 'Whate'er was giv'n I took, and thought it best, With flaughter tir'd, and panting after rest. To Phthia now, for I fhall fight no more, My fhips their crooked prows shall turn from shore. When I am fcorn'd, I think I well forefee What spoils and pillage will be won by thee.

Hence! cry'd the monarch, hence! without delay: Think not, vain man! my voice fhall urge thy ftay. Others thou leav'ft to the great cause inclin'd, A league of kings thou leav'ft, and Jove behind. Of all the chiefs doft thou oppose me most :

• Outrage and uproar are thy only boast.

• Difcor

• Discord and jars thy joy. But learn to know,

If thou art strong, 'tis Jove hath made thee so.
• Go, at thy pleasure. None will stop thy way.
Go, bid thy base-born Myrmidons obey.
Thou, nor thy rage, fhall my refolves fubdue;
I fix my purpose, and my threats renew.
Since 'tis decreed I must the maid reftore,
A fhip fhall waft her to th' offended power;
But fair Brifeïs, thy allotted prize,
Myfelf will feize, and feize before thy eyes:
That thou and each audacious man may fee,
How vain the rash attempt to cope with me.'
Stung to the foul, tumultuous thoughts began
This way and that to rend the godlike man.
To force a paffage with his falchion drawn,
And hurl th' imperial boafter from his throne,
He now refolves: and now refolves again
To quell his fury, and his arm restrain.
While thus by turns his rage and reafon fway'd,
And half unfheath'd he held the glittering blade;
That moment, Juno, whofe impartial eye

Watch'd o'er them both, fent Pallas from the sky:
She flew, and caught his yellow hair behind,
(To him alone the radiant goddess fhin'd.)
Sudden he turn'd, and started with furprize;
Rage and revenge flash'd dreadful in his eyes.

Then thus with bafty words: O! heavenly-born, Com'st thou to fee proud Agamemnon's fcorn?

§ But thou shalt fee (my fword shall make it good) • This glutted fand smoke with the tyrant's blood.'

5

• To

To footh thy foul, the blue-ey'd maid replies, (If thou obey my voice) I left the skies.

Heaven's queen,who favours both, gave this command!
Supprefs thy wrath, and ftay thy vengeful hand.
Be all thy rage in tauntful words expreft;

But guiltless let the thirsty falchion rest.

Mark what I fpeak. An hour is on its way, When gifts tenfold for this affront shall pay. Supprefs thy wrath; and heaven and me obey.' Then he: I yield; though with reluctant mind. Who yields to heaven fhall heaven propitious find.' The filver hilt close-grafping, at the word, Deep in the fheath he plung`d his mighty fword. The goddess, turning, darted from his sight, And reach'd Olympus in a moment's flight.. But fierce Achilles, in a thundering tone, Throws out his wrath, and goes impetuous on :

Valiant with wine, and furious from the bowl! Thou fierce-look'd talker with a coward foul! ← War's glorious peril ever flow to share : Aloof thou view'ft the field; for death is there. "Tis greater far this peaceful camp to fway, • And peel the Greeks, at will, who disobey: 'A tyrant lord o'er flaves to earth debas'd;

For, had they fouls, this outrage were thy laft.
But, thou, my fix'd, my final purpose hear.
By this dread fceptre folemnly I fwear:

• By this (which, once from out the forest torn,
Nor leaf nor fhade fhall ever more adorn;

Which never more its verdure muft renew,

Lopp'd from the vital ftem, whence first it grew:

• But