shores:

If e'er with wreaths I hung thy sacred fane,
Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain;
God of the silver bow! thy shafts employ,
Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks destroy."

[tends,

Thus Chryses pray'd: the favouring power atAnd from Olympus' lofty tops descends. Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound; Fierce as he mov'd, his silver shafts resound; Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread, And gloomy darkness roll'd about his head. The fleet in view, he twang'd his deadly bow, And hissing fly the feather'd fates below. On mules and dogs th' infection first began; And last, the vengeful arrows fix'd in man. For nine long nights through all the dusky air The pyres thick-flaming shot a dismal glare. But ere the tenth revolving day was run, Inspir'd by Juno, Thetis' god-like son Conven'd to council all the Grecian train ; For much the goddess mourn'd her heroes slain. Th' assembly seated, rising o'er the rest, Achilles thus the king of men addrest:

[spare,

"Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore, And measure back the seas we crost before? The plague destroying whom the sword would "Tis time to save the few remains of war. But let some prophet, or some sacred sage, Explore the cause of great Apollo's rage; Or learn the wasteful vengeance to remove, By mystic dreams, for dreams descend from Jove. If broken vows this heavy curse have laid, Let altars smoke, and hecatombs be paid, So Heaven aton'd shall dying Greece restore, And Phoebus dart his burning shafts no more."

He said, and sat: when Chalcas thus reply'd: Chalcas the wise, the Grecian priest and guide, That sacred seer, whose comprehensive view The past, the present, and the future, knew: Uprising slow, the venerable sage

Thus spoke the prudence and the fears of age:
"Belov'd of Jove, Achilles! would'st thou know
Why angry Phoebus bends his fatal bow?

First give thy faith, and plight a prince's word
Of sure protection, by thy power and sword.
For I must speak what wisdom would conceal,
And truths, invidious to the great, reveal.
Bold is the task, when subjects, grown too wise,
Instruct a monarch where his errour lies;
For though we deem the short-liv'd fury past,
'Tis sure, the mighty will revenge at last."

To whom Pelides. "From thy inmost soul Speak what thou know'st, and speak without control.

Ev'n 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 this vital air,
No daring Greek of all the numerous band
Against his priest shall lift an impious hand:
Not ev'n 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;

But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires increase,
Till the great king, without a ransom paid,
To her own Chrysa send the black-ey'd 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 boil'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

46

bring,

And still thy priestly pride provoke thy king?
For this are l'habus' oracles explor'd,
To teach the Greeks to murmur at their lord?
For this with falsehoods is my honour stain'd,
Is Heaven offended, and a priest profan'd;
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 power, 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 warriours 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,
Whene'er by Jove's decree our conquering powers
Shall humble to the dust her lofty towers."

Then thus the king. "Shall I my prize resign
With tame content, and thou possest of thine?
Great as thou art, and like a god in fight,
Think not to rob me of a soldier's right.
At thy demand shall I restore the maid?
First let the just equivalent be paid;
Such as a king might ask; and let it be
A treasure worthy her, and worthy me.
Or grant me this, or with a monarch's claim,
This hand shall seize some other captive dame;
The mighty Ajax shall his prize resign,
Ulysses' spoils, or ev'n thy own, be mine.
The man who suffers, loudly may complain;
And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain.
But this when time requires-It now remains
We lanch a bark to plough the watery plains,
And waft the sacrifice to Chrysa's shores,
With chosen pilots, and with labouring oars.
Soon shall the fair the sable ship ascend,
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, reply'd: "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 compar'd to mine. Thine in each conquest is the wealthy prey, Though mine the sweat and danger of the day. Some trivial presents 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 horrours are thy savage joy;

If thou hast strength, 'twas Heaven that strength bestow'd,

For know, vain man! thy valour is from God.
Haste, la nch 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
Te 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:
Ev'n in thy tent I'll seize the blooming prize,
Thy lov'd Briseis with the radiant eyes.
Hence shalt thou prove my might, and curse the
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."

[hour,

Achilles heard, with grief and rage opprest, His heart swell'd high, and labour'd in his breast. Distracting thoughts by turns his bosom rul'd, Now fir'd by wrath, and now by reason cool'd: That prompts his hand to draw the deadly sword, Force through the Greeks, and pierce their haughty Jord;

This whispers soft, his vengeance to control,
And calm the rising tempest of his soul.
Just as in anguish of suspence 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 seiz'd: to him alone confest;

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
From Atreus' son? then let those eyes that view
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 injur'd 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."
He said, observant of the blue-ey'd 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 breast 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, Are tam'd to wrongs, or this had been thy last. 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 madness gave,

Fore'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 His sceptre starr'd with golden studs around. Then sternly silent sat. With like disdain,

The raging king return'd his frowns again.

To calm their passions with the words of age,
Slow from his seat arose the Pylian sage
Experienc'd Nestor, in persuasion skill'd,
Words sweet as honey from his lips distill'd;
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 th' 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 head 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;
Thescus, endued with more than mortal might,
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 monsters' gore,
And from their hills, the shaggy Centaurs tore.
Yet these with soft, persuasive arts I sway'd;
When Nestor spoke, they listen'd and obey'd.
If in my youth, ev'n these esteem'd me wise;
Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise.
Atrides, scize 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 powers of Earth, and scepter'd son of Jove.
Let both unite, with well-consenting mind,
So shall authority with strength be join'd.
Leave me, O king! to calin Achilles' rage;
Rule thou thyself, as more advanc'd 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 have 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 Briseis, 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.
Mean time Atrides lanch'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.
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 odours 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 Achiles' tent," he cries,
"Thence bear Briseis as our royal prize:
Submit he must: or, if they will not part,
Ourself in arms shall tear her from his heart."

Th' unwilling heralds act their lord's coinmands;
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;
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 prostrateGreece should bleed at ev'ry 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;
She, in soft sorrow, 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 you 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;
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,
(Action'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;
The fleet he reach'd, and, lowly bending down,
Held forth the sceptre and the laurel crown,
Intreating all but chief implor'd for grace
The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race:
The generous Greeks their joint consent declare
The priest to reverence, and release the fair;
Not so Atrides: he, with wonted pride,
Tue sire insulted, and his gifts deny'd:
Th' insulted sire (his god's peculiar care)

To Phoebus pray'd, and Phœbus heard the prayer:
A dreadful plague ensues; th' avenging darts
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 be threaten'd, and his threats perform'd:
The fair Chryseis to her sire was sent,
With offer'd gifts to make the god relent ;
But now he seiz'd Briseïs heav'nly charms,
And of my valour's prize defrauds my arms,
Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train;
And service, faith, and justice, plead in vain.
Bat, goddess! thou thy suppliant son attend,
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' ethereal host,
When bold rebellion shook the realms above,
Th' undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove.
When the bright partner of his awful reign,
Th' 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 Ægcon name)
Through wondering skies enormous stalk'd along;
Not he that shakes the solid Earth so strong:
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;

VOL XIX.

! Neptune.

Why have I borne 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! 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' ethereal train, On the warm limits of the farthest main, Now mix with mortals, nor disdain to grace The feast 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 The high tribunal of immortal Jove."

The goddess spoke: the rolling waves unclose; Then down the deep she plung'd from whence she And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast, [rose, 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, Chryseïs last descending on the strand. Her, thus returning from the furrow'd main, Ulysses led to Phoebus' sacred fane; 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 hecatombs the Greeks prepare; And may thy god, who scatters darts around, 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."

!

So Chryses pray'd, Apollo heard his prayer: And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare; Between their horns the salted barley threw, And with their heads to Heaven the victims slew :