Part 4 (1/2)

At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied: ”O tyrant, arlorious slave to interest, ever join'd With fraud, unworthy of a royal enerous 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 injured me; To Phthia's realms no hostile troops they led: Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed; Far hence re n, Whose fruitful soil luxuriant harvests grace, Rich in her fruits, and in her , To avenge a private, not a public wrong: What else to Troy the asserateful, and thy brother's cause?

Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve; Disgraced and injured by the man we serve?

And darest 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 compared to h er of the day

Some trivial present to my shi+ps 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, hty warrior! fly; Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy

There want not chiefs in such a cause to fight, And Jove his (the God's distinguish'd care) To power superior none such hatred bear: Strife and debate thy restless soul ee joy, If thou hast strength, 'twas Heaven that strength bestow'd; For know, vain man! thy valour is from God

Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away; Rule thy own realms with arbitrary sway; I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate Thy short-lived friendshi+p, and thy groundless hate

Go, threat thy earth-born Myrmidons:--but here(56) 'Tis 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: Even in thy tent I'll seize the bloo prize, Thy loved Briseis with the radiant eyes

Hence shalt thou prove ht, and curse the hour Thou stood'st a rival of imperial power; And hence, to all our hosts it shall be known, That kings are subject to the Gods alone”

Achilles heard, with grief and rage oppress'd, His heart swell'd high, and labour'd in his breast; Distracting thoughts by turns his bosom ruled; Now fired by wrath, and now by reason cool'd: That proh the Greeks, and pierce their haughty lord; This whispers soft his vengeance to control, And caluish of suspense he stay'd, While half unsheathed appear'd the glittering blade,(57) Minerva swift descended from above, Sent by the sister and the wife of Jove (For both the princes claiolden hair Achilles seized; to him alone confess'd; 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:

[Illustration: MINERVA REPRESSING THE FURY OF ACHILLES]

MINERVA REPRESSING THE FURY OF ACHILLES

”Descends Minerva, in her guardian care, A heavenly witness of the wrongs I bear Fro crieny of Jove replies) To calreat Achilles, to the Gods resign'd, To reason yield the eiven; The king and you are both the care of heaven

The force of keen reproaches let hi steel

For I pronounce (and trust a heavenly power) Thy injured honour has its fated hour, When the proud monarch shall thy arms implores And bribe thy friendshi+p 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, eance I suppress: Those who revere the Gods the Gods will bless”

He said, observant of the blue-eyedblade

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: ”Oin forehead, but in heart a deer!

When wert thou known in ahts 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 o, 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 freedos;--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, forates of Jove, Fros (Tres); By this I swear:--when bleeding Greece again Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain