Before his pride must his superiors fally:
His word the law, and he the lord of all?
Him must our hosts, our chiefs, ourself obey?
What king can bear a rival in his sway?
Grant that the Gods his matchless force hath given;
Has foul reproach a privilege from heaven?
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. 395
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: 400
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 : 405
High on the deck was fair Chryseis 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, 410 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. Along the shore whole hecatombs were laid, And bulls and goats to Phoebus' altars paid. The sable fumes in curling spires arise, And waft their grateful odors to the skies. The army thus in sacred rites engag'd, Atrides still with deep resentment rag'd. To wait his will two sacred heralds stood, Talthybius and Eurybates the good. Haste to the fierce Achilles' tent (he cries) Thence bear Briseis as our royal prize:
Submit he must; or, if they will not part,dancis&
Ourself in arms shall tear her from his heart. 425
Th'unwilling heralds act their lord's commands;
Pensive they walk along the barren sands:
Arriv'd, 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; A
Decent confusion! This the godlike man
Perceiv'd, and thus with accent mild began.
With leave and honor 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 Briseis 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 th' unwilling beauty brought; 450
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:
Honor 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 from the deep recesses of the main, Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign, The Goddess-mother heard. The waves divide; 470 And like a mist she rose above the tide; Beheld him mourning on 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. He, deeply sighing, said: To tell my woe, Is but to mention what too well you know. From Thebe sacred to Apollo's name, (Aëtion's realm) our conquering army came, With treasure loaded and triumphant spoils, Whose just division crown'd the soldier's toils; But bright Chryseïs, heavenly prize! was led By vote selected, to the general's bed. The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts to gain His beauteous daughter from the victor's chain; 485 The fleet he reach'd, and lowly bending down, Held forth the sceptre and the laurel crown, Entreating all: but chief implor'd for grace The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race:
The generous Greeks their joint consent declare, 490
The priest to reverence, and release the fair;
Not so Atrides: He, with wonted pride,
The sire insulted, and his gifts deny'd:
Th' insulted sire (his God's peculiar care)
To Phœbus pray'd, and Phœbus heard the prayer:
A dreadful plague ensues; th' avenging darts 496.
Incessant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts.
A prophet then, inspir'd by heaven arose,
And points the crime, and thence derives the woes:
Myself the first th' assembled chiefs incline
Tavert the vengeance of the power divine;
Then rising in his wrath, the monarch storm'd;
Incens'd he threaten'd, and his threats perform'd : {
The fair Chryseïs to her sire was sent,
With offer'd gifts to make the God relent;
But now he seiz'd Briseïs' heavenly charms,
And of my valor's prize defrauds my arms,
Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train;
And service, faith, and justice, plead in vain.
But, Goddess! thou thy suppliant son attend, 510
To high Olympus' shining court ascend,
Urge all the ties to former service ow'd,
And sue for vengeance to the thundering God.
Oft hast thou triumph'd in the glorious boast,
That thou stood'st forth of all th' etherial host, 515
When bold rebellion shook the realms above,
Th' undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove.
When the bright partner of his awful reign,
The warlike maid, and monarch of the main,
The traitor-gods, by mad ambition driven,
Durst threat with chains th' omnipotence of heaven.
Then call'd by thee, the monster Titan came,
(Whom Gods Briareus, men Ægeon name)
Through wondering skies enormous stalk'd along ;
Not he that shakes the solid earth so strong: 525
With giant-pride at Jove's high throne he stands,
And brandish'd round him all his hundred hands;
Th' affrighted Gods confess'd their awful lord,
They dropt the fetters, trembled, and ador'd.
This, Goddess, this to his remembrance call,
Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall;
Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train,
To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main,
To heap the shores with copious death, and bring
The Greeks to know the curse of such a king: 535
Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head
O'er all his wide dominion of the dead,
And mourn in blood, that e'er he durst disgrace
The boldest warrior of the Grecian race.
Unhappy son! (fair Thetis thus replies,
While tears celestial trickle from her eyes)
Why have I born thee with a mother's throes,
To fates averse, and nurs'd for future woes ?
So short a space the light of heaven to view!
So short a space! and fill'd with sorrow too! 545
O might a parent's careful wish prevail,
Far, far from Ilion should thy vessels sail,
And thou, from camps remote, the danger shun,
Which now, alas! too nearly threats my son.
Yet (what I can) to move thy suit I'll go
To great Olympus crown'd with fleecy snow.
Meantime, secure within thy ships, from far
Behold the field, nor mingle in the war.
The sire of Gods and all th' etherial train,
On the warm limits of the farthest main,
Now mix with mortals, nor disdain to grace
The feasts of Ethiopia's blameless race;
Twelve days the powers indulge the genial rite,
Returning with the twelfth revolving light.
Then will I mount the brazen dome, and move 560
The high tribunal of immortal Jove.
The Goddess spoke: the rolling waves unclose;
Then down the deep she plung'd from whence she rose,
And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast,
In wild resentment for the fair he lost.
In Chrysa's port now sage Ulysses rode;
Beneath the deck the destin'd victims stow'd;
The sails they furl'd, they lash'd the mast aside,
And dropp'd their anchors, and the pinnace ty'd.
Next on the shore their hecatomb they land, 570
Chryseis last descending on the strand.
Her, thus returning from the furrow'd main,
Ulysses led to Phoebus' sacred fane
e;
Where at his solemn altar, as the maid
He gave to Chryses, thus the hero said.
Hail reverend priest! to Phoebus' awful dome
A suppliant I from great Atrides come :
Unransom'd here receive the spotless fair;
Accept the hecatomb the Greeks prepare;
And may thy God who scatters darts around, 580
Aton'd by sacrifice, desist to wound.
At this, the sire embrac'd the maid again,
So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain.
Then near the altar of the darting king,
Dispos'd in rank their hecatomb they bring:
With water purify their hands, and take
The sacred offering of the salted cake;
While thus with arms devoutly rais'd in air,
And solemn voice, the priest directs his prayer.
God of the silver bow, thy ear incline,
Whose power encircles Cilla the divine;
Whose sacred eye thy Tenedos surveys,
And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguish'd rays!
If, fir'd to vengeance at thy priest's request,
Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest;
Once more attend! avert the wasteful woe,
And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow.
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