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 fpoke; and furious hurl'd against the ground 325
His fceptre ftarr'd with golden ftuds around.
Then fternly 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 arose the Pylian fage,
Experienc'd Neftor, in perfuafion skill'd,
Words fweet as honey from his lips diftill'd;
Two generations now had pafs'd away,
Wife by his rules, and happy by his fway;
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 ftern debate
The best, the braveft of the Grecian state.
Young as ye are, this youthful heat reftrain,
Nor think your Neftor's years and wifdom vain.
A Godlike race of heroes once I knew,
Such, as no more thefe aged eyes fhall 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 thirst 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 monsters gore, 356
And from their hills the fhaggy Centaurs tore.
Yet these with soft, perfuafive arts I sway'd;
When Neftor fpoke, they liften'd and obey'd.
If in my youth, ev'n these esteem'd me wife;
Do you, young warriours, hear my age advise.
Atrides, feize not on the beauteous slave;
That prize the Greeks by common 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 strength, and of a Goddess born;
Him, awful majefty exalts above
The powers of earth, and fcepter'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 thyself, as more advanc'd in age.
Forbid it Gods! Achilles fhould be lost,
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 fuperiours fall,
His word the law, and he the lord of all?
VOL. I.
Him muft our hofts, our chiefs, ourselves 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 fpeech Achilles broke,
And furious, thus, and interrupting spoke :
Tyrant, I well deferv'd thy galling chain,
To live thy flave, and ftill to ferve in vain ;
Should I fubmit to each unjust decree :
Command thy vaffals, but command not me.
Seize on Brifeïs, whom the Grecians doom'd
My prize of war, yet tamely fee resum'd;
And feize fecure; no more Achilles draws
His conquering fword in any woman's caufe.
The Gods command me to forgive the past;
But let this first invafion 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 fullen majesty 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 fhip for Chryfa's facred fhores :
High on the deck was fair Chriseïs plac'd,
And fage Ulyffes with the conduct grac'd;
Safe in her fides the hecatomb they ftow'd,
Then, fwiftly failing, cut the liquid road.
The hoft to expiate, next the king prepares,
With
pure luftrations, and with folemn 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 fable fumes in curling fpires arise,
And waft their grateful odours to the skies.
The army thus in facred rites engag'd,
Atrides ftill with deep refentment rag'd.
To wait his will, two facred heralds stood,
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,
Ourself in arms fhall tear her from his heart.
Th' unwilling heralds act their lord's commands;
Pensive 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 diftance long they filent stand,
Loth to advance, or fpeak 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 minifters of men and Gods!
I know your meffage; by constraint you came;
Not you, but your imperious lord I blame.
Patroclus hafte, the fair Brifeïs bring;
Conduct my captive to the haughty king.
But witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow,
Witness to Gods above, and men below!
But firft, and loudest to your prince declare,
That lawless tyrant whofe commands you bear;
Unmov'd as death Achilles fhall remain,
Though proftrate Greece fhould bleed at every vein : 445
The raging chief in frantic passion loft,
Blind to himself, and useless to his host,
Unskill'd to judge the future by the past,
In blood and flaughter fhall repent at last.
Patroclus now th' unwilling beauty brought; 450
She, in foft forrows, and in pensive thought,
Paft filent, as the heralds held her hand,
And oft look'd back, flow moving o'er the strand.
Not fo his lofs the fierce Achilles bore;
But fad retiring to the founding fhore,
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! fince in early bloom
Thy fon must fall, by too fevere a doom;
Sure, to fo fhort 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 yon proud monarch thus thy son defies,
Obfcures my glories, and refumes my prize.
Far from the deep receffes of the main,
Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign,
The Goddess-mother heard. The waves divide; 470 And like a mift she rofe above the tide ; 3
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