To whom Achilles, swift of foot, replied:
"Haughtiest of men, and greediest of the prey!
How shall our valiant Greeks for thee seek out
Some other spoil? no common fund have we

Of hoarded treasures; what our arms have won
From captur'd towns, has been already shar'd,
Nor can we now resume th' apportion'd spoil.
Restore the maid, obedient to the God!

And if Heav'n will that we the strong-built walls
Of Troy should rase, our warriors will to thee
A threefold, fourfold recompense assign."

To whom great Agamemnon thus replied:
"Think not, Achilles, valiant though thou art
In fight, and godlike, to defraud me thus;
I am not one to be prevail❜d on so.

Think'st thou to keep thy portion of the spoil,
While I with empty hands sit humbly down?
The dark-ey'd girl thou bidst me to restore;
If then the valiant Greeks for me seek out
Some other spoil, some compensation just,

'Tis well if not, I with my own right hand

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Will from some other chief, from thee perchance,

Or Ajax, or Ulysses, wrest his prey;

And woe to him, on whomsoe'er I call!

But this for future counsel we remit :

Haste we then now our dark-ribb'd bark to launch,
Muster a fitting crew, and place on board

The sacred hecatomb; then last embark
The fair Chryseis; and in chief command

Let some one of our councillors be plac'd,
Ajax, Ulysses, or Idomeneus,

Or thou, the most ambitious of them all,

That so our rites may soothe the angry God."
To whom Achilles thus with scornful glance:
"Oh, cloth'd in shamelessness! oh, sordid soul!
How canst thou hope that any Greek for thee
Will brave the toils of travel or of war?

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Well dost thou know that 'twas no feud of mine

With Troy's brave sons that brought me here in arms;

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They never did me wrong; they never drove

My cattle, or my horses; never sought

In Phthia's fertile, life-sustaining fields

To waste the crops; for wide between us lay

The shadowy mountains and the roaring sea.

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With thee, O void of shame! with thee we sail'd,

For Menelaus and for thee, ingrate,

Glory and fame on Trojan crests to win.

All this hast thou forgotten, or despis'd;

And threat'nest now to wrest from me the prize

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I labour'd hard to win, and Greeks bestow'd.

Nor does my portion ever equal thine,

When on some populous town our troops have made
Successful war; in the contentious fight

The larger portion of the toil is mine;

But when the day of distribution comes,

Thine is the richest spoil; while I, forsooth,
Must be too well content to bear on board

Some paltry prize for all my warlike toil.

To Phthia now I go; so better far,

To steer my homeward course, and leave thee here
Dishonour'd as thou art, nor like, I deem,

To fill thy coffers with the spoils of war."

Whom answer'd Agamemnon, king of men :

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Fly, then, if such thy mind! I ask thee not

On mine account to stay; others there are
Will guard my honour, and avenge my cause:
And chief of all, the Lord of counsel, Jove!
Of all the heav'n-born kings, thou art the man
I hate the most; for thou delight'st in nought
But war and strife: thy prowess I admit ;
Yet this, remember, is the gift of Heav'n.

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Return, then, with thy vessels, if thou wilt,

And with thy followers, home; and lord it there
Over thy Myrmidons! I heed thee not!

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I care not for thy fury! Hear my threat:

Since Phœbus wrests Chryseis from my arms,

In mine own ship, and with mine own good crew,
Her I send forth; and, in her stead, I mean,

Ev'n from thy tent, myself, to bear thy prize,
The fair Briseis; that henceforth thou know
How far I am thy master; and that, taught
By thine example, others too may fear

To rival me, and brave me to my face."

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Thus, while he spake, Achilles chaf'd with rage;

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And in his manly breast his heart was torn
With thoughts conflicting-whether from his side
To draw his mighty sword, and put to rout
Th' assembled throng, and kill th' insulting king;
Or school his soul, and keep his anger down.

But while in mind and spirit thus he mus❜d,

And half unsheath'd his sword, from heav'n came down

Minerva, sent by Juno, white-arm'd queen,

Who both the chiefs with equal int'rest view'd.

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She stood behind, and by the yellow hair

She held the son of Peleus, visible

To him alone, by all the rest unseen.

Achilles, wond'ring, turn'd, and straight he knew

The blue-ey'd Pallas; awful was her glance,

And thus the chief his winged words address'd:

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Why com'st thou, child of ægis-bearing Jove?

To see the arrogance of Atreus' son?

But for this insolence, I say and think,
He soon may pay the forfeit of his life."

To whom the blue-ey'd goddess thus replied: "From heav'n I came, to curb, if thou wilt hear,

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