If e'er with wreaths I hung thy facred fane,
Or fed the flames with fat of oxen flain;
God of the filver bow! thy fhaits employ,
Avenge thy fervant, and the Greeks destroy.

Thus Chryfes pray'd: The favouring power
And from Olympus lofty tops defcends. [attends,
Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound;
Fierce as he mov'd, his filver shafts refound;
Breathing revenge, a fudden night he spread,
And gloomy darkness roll'd about his head.
The fleet in view, he twang'd his deadly bow,
And hifling 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 hot a dismal glare.
But ere the tenth revolving day was run,
Infpir'd by Juno, Thetis' god-like fon
Conven'd to council all the Grecian train;
For much the Goddess mourn'd her heroes flain.
Th' affembly feated, rifing o'er the reft,
Achilles thus the king of men addrett :

Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore, And measure back the feas we croft before? The plague deftroying whom the fword would fpare, 'Tis time to fave the few remains of war. But let fome prophet, or fome facred fage, Explore the caufe of great Apollo's rage; Or learn the wafteful vengeance to remove, By myftic dreams, for dreams defcend from Jove. If broken vows this heavy curfe have laid, Let altars fmoke, and hecatombs be paid. So heaven aton'd fhall dying Greece restore, And Phoebus dart his burning fhafts no more.

He said, and fat: when Chalcas thus reply'd: Chalcas the wife, the Grecian priest and guide, That facred feer, whofe comprehensive view The paft, the prefent, and the future knew: Uprifing flow, the venerable fage

Thus fpoke the prudence and the fears of age,
Belov'd of Jove, Achilles! would't thou know
Why angry Phoebus bends his fatal how?
Firit give thy faith, and plight a prince's word
Offure protection, by thy power and fword.
For I muft fpeak what wildom would conceal,
And truths, invidious to the great, reveal.
Bold is the task, when fubjects grown too wife,
Inftruct a monarch where his error lies;
For though we deem the short-liv'd fury past,
"Tis fure, the Mighty will revenge at last.

To whom Pelides. From thy inmoft foul Speak what thou know'ft, and speak without controul.

Ev'n by that God I fwear, who rules the day,
To whom thy hands the vows of Greece convey,
And whofe bleft oracles thy lips declare;
Long as Achilles breathes this vital air,
No daring Greek of all the numerous band
Against his priest fhall lift an impious hand:
Not ev'n the chief by whom our hofts are led,
The king of kings, fhall touch that facred head.
Encourag'd thus, the blameless man replies;
Nor vows unpaid, nor flighted facrifice,
But he, our chief, provok'd the raging pest,
Apollo's vengeance for his injur'd prieft;
Nor will the God's awaken'd jury ccafe,
But plagues hall spread, and funeral fires increafe,

Till the great king, without a ransom paid,
To her own Chryfa fend the black-ey'd maid.
Perhaps, with added facrifice and prayer,
The priest may pardon, and the God may fpare.

The prophet ipoke; when with a gloomy trown
The monarch started from his shining throne;
Black choler fill'd his breaft that boil'd with ire,
And from his eye-balls flash'd the living fire.
Auger accurft! denouncing mifchief till,
Prophet of plagues, for ever boding ill! [bring,
Still muft that tongue fome wounding meflage
And still thy prietly pride provoke thy king?
For this are Phoebus' oracles explor'd,
To teach the Greeks to murmur at their Lord!
For this with falfehoods is my honour stain'd,
Is heaven offended, and a prieft protan'd;
Becaufe 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 fo dear were Clytemneitra's charms,
When firft her blooming beauties bleit my arms.
Yet if the Gods demand her, ler her fail;
Our cares are only for the public weal:
Let me be deem'd the hateful caufe of all,
And fuffer, rather than my people fail.
The prize, the beauteous prize, I will refign,
So dearly valued, and fo juftiy mine.
But fince for common good I yield the fair,
My private lofs let grateful Greece repair;
Nor unrewarded let your prince complain,
That he alone has fought and bled in vain.

Infatiate king, (Achilles thus replies)
Fond of the power, but fonder of the prize!
Would't thou the Greeks their lawful prey thould
yield,

The due reward of many a well fought field?
The fpoils of cities raz`d, and warriors flain,
We share with juftice, as with toil we gain:
But to refume whate'er thy avarice craves
(That trick of tyrants) may be borne by flaves.
Yet if our chief for plunder only fight,
The fpails of Ilion fball thy lofs requite,
Whene'er by Jove's decree our conquering powers
Shall humble to the duft her lotty towers.

Then thus the king. Shall I my prize refign
With tame content, and thou pofieft of thine?
Great as thou art, and like a God in fight,
Think not to rob me of a foldier's right.
At thy demand fhall I reftore the maid?
First let the juft equivalent be paid;
Such as a king might afk; and let it be
A treature worthy her, and worthy me.
Or grant me this, or with a monarch's claim,
This hand fhall feize fome other captive dame;
The mighty Ajax fhall his prize relign,
Ulyffes' ipoils, or ev'n thy own be mine.
The man who fuffers, loudly may complain;
And rage he may, but he thall rage in vain.
But thus when time requires-It now remains
We launch a bark to plow the watery plains,
And waft the facrifice to Chryfa's fhores,
With chofen pilots, and with labouring oars.
Soon fhall the fair the fable fhip afcend,
And fome deputed prince the charge attend:
This Creta's king, or Ajax fhall fulfil,
Or wife Ulyffes fee perform'd our will;

Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain,
Achilles' felf conduct her o'er the main;
Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage,
The God propitiate, and the peit affuage,

At this Pelides, frowning ftern, reply'd:
O tyrant, arm'd with infolence and pride!
Inglorious flave to intereft, ever join'd
With fraud, unworthy of a royal mind!
What generous Greek, obedient to thy word,
Shall form an ambuth, or fhall lift the fword?
What caufe have I to war at thy decree?
The diftant Trojans never injur'd mẹ :
To Phthia's realms no hoftile troops they led,
Safe in her vales my warlike courfers fed;
Far hence remov'd, the hoarfe-refounding main.
And walls of rocks, fecure my native reign,
Whefe fruitful foil luxuriant harvests grace,
Rich in her fruits, and in her martial race.
Hither we fail'd, a voluntary throng,
T'avenge a private, not a public wrong:
What elfe to Troy th' affembled nations draws,
But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother's cause?
Is this the pay our blood and toils deferve;
Digrac'd and injur'd by the man we serve?
And dar'ft thou threat to fnatch my prize away,
Due to the deeds of many a dreadful day?
A prize as fmall, O tyrant! match'd with thine,
As thy own actions if compar'd to mine.
Thine in each conqueft is the wealthy prey,
Though mine the fweat and danger of the day.
Some trivial prefents to my fhips I bear,
O: barren praises pay the wounds of war.
But know, proud monarch, I'm thy flave no more;
My fleet thall waft me to Theffalia's fhore.
Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain,
What fpoils, what conquefts, fhall Atrides gain?
To this the king: Fly, mighty warrior! fly;
Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy.
There want not chiefs in fuch a cause to fight,
And Jove himself thall guard a monarch's right.
Of all the kings (the Gods diftinguith'd care)
To power fuperior none fuch hatred bear:
Strite and debate thy reftiefs foul employ,
And wars and horrors are thy favage joy;

If thou haft ftrength, 'twas heaven that strength bestow'd,

For know, vain man! thy valour is from God.
Hafte, launch thy veffels, fly with speed away,
Rale thy own realms with arbitrary fway:
I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate
Thy thort 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 fhall waft her to her native land;
But then prepare, imperious prince! prepare,
Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive fair:
Eva in thy tent I'll feize the blooming prize,
Thy lov'd Brifeïs with the radiant eyes.
Hence fhalt thou prove my might, and curfe the
Thou food'st a rival of imperial power;
And hence to all our hoft it fhall be known,
That kings are subject to the Gods alone.
Achilles heard, with grief and rage oppreft,
His heart fwell'd high, and laboured in his breaft.
Distracting thoughts by turns his bolom rul'd,
Now fir'd by wrath, and now by reafon cool'd:

[hour,

That prompts his hand to draw the deadly fword, Force through the Greeks, and pierce their haughty lord;

This whispers foft, his vengeance to controul,
And calm the rifing tempeft of his foul.
Juft as in anguish of fufpence he stay'd,
While halfunfheath'd appear'd the glittering blade,
Minerva fwift defcended from above,

Sent by the fifter and the wife of Jove
(For both the princes claim'd her equal care);
Behind the ftood, and by the golden hair
Achilles feized; to him alone confeft;
A fable cloud conceal'd her from the rest.
He fees, and fudden to the Goddess cries,
Known by the flames that sparkle from her eyes:
Defcends Minerva in her guardian care,

A heavenly witnets of the wrong's I bear
From Atreus' fon: then let thofe eyes that view
The daring crime, behold the vengeance too.

Forbear! (the progeny of Jove replies)

To calm thy fury I forfake the skies:
Let great Achilles, to the Gods refign'd,
To reafon 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 truft a heavenly power)
Thy injur'd honour has its fated hour,
When the proud monarch fhall thy arms implore,
And bribe thy friendship with a boundless store.
Then let revenge no longer bear the fway,
Command thy paffions, and the Gods obey.

To her Pelides. With regardiul ear
'Tis jutt, O Goddess! I thy dictates hear.
Hard as it is, my vengeance I fuppreis:
Those who revere the Gods, the Gods will blefs.
He faid, obfervant of the blue-ey'd maid;
Then in the fheath return'd the shining blade.
The Goddets fwift to high Olympus flics,
And joins the facred fenate of the skies.

Nor yet the rage his boiling breast forfook,
Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke.
O monster! mix'd of infolence 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 fater through the camp to go,
And rob a fubject, than delpoil a foe.
Scourge of thy people, violent and base!
Sent in Jeve's anger on a flavish race,
Who, loft to fenfe of generous freedom past,
Are tam'd to wrongs, or this had been thy last.
Now by this facred fceptre hear me fwear,
Which never more shall leaves or bloffoms bear,
Which fever'd from the trunk (as I from thee)
On the bare mountains left its parent tree;
This fceptre, form'd by temper'd feel to prove
An enfign of the delegates of Jove,
From whom the power of laws and justice springs
(Tremenduous oath inviolate to kings):
By this I fwear, when bleeding Greece again
Shall call Achilles, the fhall call in vain. [ipread
When, flufh'd with flaughter, Hector comes to
The purpled shore with mountains of the dead,

A

Then shalt thou mourn th' affront thy madness gave
Forc'd to deplore, when impotent to fave:
Then rage in bitterness of foul, to know
This act has made the bravest Greek thy foe.
He spoke and furious hurl'd against the ground
His fceptre ftarr'd with golden studs around.
Then sternly filent fat. With like difdain,
The raging king return'd his frowns again.

To calm their paffions with the words of age,
Slow from his feat arofe the Pylian fage,
Experienc'd Neftor, in perfuafion skill'd,
X Words fweet as honey from his lips diftill'd;
Two generations now had pafs'd away,
Wife 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:

[joy
What fhame, what woe is this to Greece! what
To Troy's proud monarch, and the friends of Troy!
That adverfe Gods commit to ftern debate
The best, the bravest of the Grecian state.
Young as ye are, this youthful head restrain,
Nor think your Neftor's years and wisdom vain.
A Godlike race of heroes once I knew,
Such, as no more thefe aged eyes shall view!
Lives there a chief to match Pirithous' fame,
Dryas the bold, or Ceneus' deathless name;
Thefeus, endued with more than mortal might,
Or Polyphemus, like the Gods in fight?
With thefe of old to toils of battle bred,
In early youth my hardy days I led :
Fir'd with the thirft which virtuous envy breeds,
And fmit with love of honourable deeds.
Strongest of men, they pierc'd the mountain boar,
Rang'd the wild deferts red with monfters gore,
And from their hills the fhaggy Centaurs tore.
Yet thefe with foft, perfuafive arts I fway'd;
When Neftor fpoke, they liften'd and obey'd.
If in my youth, ev'n thefe efteem'd me wife;
Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise.
Atrides, feize not on the beauteous flave;
That prize the Greeks by commor fuffrage gave:
Nor thou Achilles, treat our prince with pride;
Let kings be juft, and fovereign power prefide;
Thee, the first honours of the war adorn,
Like Gods in ftrength, and of a goddess born;
Him, awful majefty exalts above

The powers of earth, and feepter'd fons of Jove.
Let both unite, with well confenting mind,
So fhall authority with ftrength be join'd.
Leave me, O king! to calm Achilles' rage;
Rule thou thyfelf, as more advanc'd in age.
Forbid it Gods! Achilles fhould be loft,

The pride of Greece, and bulwark of our hoft.

This faid, he ceas'd: the king of men replies:
Thy years are awful, and thy words are wife.
But that imperious, that unconquer'd soul,
No laws can limit, no refpect control.
Before his pride muft his fuperiors fall,
His word the law, and he the lord of all?
Him muft our hofts, our chiefs, ourselves obey?
What king can bear a rival in his fway?
Grant that the Gods his matchlefs force hath given;
Has foul reproach a privilege from Heaven?

Here on the monarch's fpeech Achilles broke,
And furious, thus, and interrupting, spoke :

Tyrant, I well deferv'd thy galling chant,
To live thy flave, and still to ferve in vain;
Should I fubmit to each unjust decree :
Command thy vassals, but command not me.
Seize on Brifeis, whom the Grecians doom'd
My prize of war, yet tamely fee refum'd;
And seize fecure; no more Achilles draws
His conquering fword in any woman's cause.
The Gods command me to forgive the past ;
But let this firft invafion be the last:

For know, thy blood, when next thou dar'st invade,
Shall ftream in vengeance on my reeking blade.
At this they ceas'd; the ftern debate expir'd:
The chiefs in fullen majefty retir'd.

Achilles with Patroclus took his way,
Where near his tents his hollow veffels lay.
Mean time Atrides launch'd with numerous oars
A well-rigg'd hip for Cryfa's facred hores :
High on the deck was fair Chrifers plac'd,
And fage Ulyffes with the conduct grac'd;
Safe in her fides the hecatomb they stow'd,
Then, fwiftly failing, cut the liquid road.

The hoft to expiate, next the king prepares,
With pure luitrations, and with folemn prayers.
Wafh'd by the briny wave, the pious train
Are cleans'd, and caft th' ablutions in the main.
Along the fhore whole hecatombs were laid,
And bulls and goats to Phoebus' altars paid,
The fable fumes in curling fpires arife,
And waft their grateful odours to the skies.

The armies thus in facred rites engag'd,
Atrides still with deep refentment rag'd.
To wait his will, two facred heralds ftood,
Talthybius and Eurybates the good.
Hafte to the fierce Achilles' tent (he cries)
Thence bear Brifeïs as our royal prize :
Submit he muft; or, if they will not part,
Ourfelf in arms fhall tear her from his heart.

Th' unwilling heralds at their lord's commands;
Penfive they walk along the barren fands:
Arriv'd, the hero in his tent they find,
With gloomy afpect. on his arm reclin'd
At awful distance long they filent stand,
Loth to advance, or speak their hard command;
Decent confufion! This the godlike man
Perceiv'd, and thus with accent mild began:

With leave and honour enter our abodes,

Ye facred ministers of men and Gods!

I know your meffage; by conftraint you came;
Not you, but your imperious lord I blame.
Patroclus hafte, the fair Brifeïs bring;
Conduct my captive to the haughty king.
But witneis, heralds, and proclaim my vow,
Witness to Gods above, and men below!
But firit, and loudeft, to your prince declare,
That lawless tyrant whofe commands you bear;
Unmov'd as death Achilles fhall remain,
Though proftrate Greece fhould bleed at ev'ry

vein:

The raging chief in frantic paffion loft,
Blind to himself, and useless to his hoft,
Unfkill'd to judge the future by the past,
In blood and flaughter fhall repent at last.

Patroclus now th' unwilling beauty brought:
She, in foft forrow, and in penfive thought,
Paft filent, as the heralds held her hand,
And oft look'd back, flow moving o'er the strand.