Lost herds and treasures we by arms regain,

And steeds unrivall’d on the dusty plain:

But from our lips the vital spirit fled,

Returns no more to wake the silent dead.

My fates long since by Thetis were disclosed,

And each alternate, life or fame, proposed;

Here, if I stay, before the Trojan town,

Short is my date, but deathless my renown:

If I return, I quit immortal praise

For years on years, and long-extended days.

Convinced, though late, I find my fond mistake,

And warn the Greeks the wiser choice to make;

To quit these shores, their native seats enjoy,

Nor hope the fall of heaven-defended Troy.

Jove’s arm display’d asserts her from the skies!

Her hearts are strengthen’d, and her glories rise.

Go then to Greece, report our fix’d design;

Bid all your counsels, all your armies join,

Let all your forces, all your arts conspire,

To save the ships, the troops, the chiefs, from fire.

One stratagem has fail’d, and others will:

Ye find, Achilles is unconquer’d still.

Go then—digest my message as ye may—

But here this night let reverend Phoenix stay:

His tedious toils and hoary hairs demand

A peaceful death in Pthia’s friendly land.

But whether he remain or sail with me,

His age be sacred, and his will be free.”

The son of Peleus ceased: the chiefs around

In silence wrapt, in consternation drown’d,

Attend the stern reply. Then Phoenix rose;

(Down his white beard a stream of sorrow flows;)

And while the fate of suffering Greece he mourn’d,

With accent weak these tender words return’d.

“Divine Achilles! wilt thou then retire,

And leave our hosts in blood, our fleets on fire?

If wrath so dreadful fill thy ruthless mind,

How shall thy friend, thy Phoenix, stay behind?

The royal Peleus, when from Pthia’s coast

He sent thee early to the Achaian host;

Thy youth as then in sage debates unskill’d,

And new to perils of the direful field:

He bade me teach thee all the ways of war,

To shine in councils, and in camps to dare.

Never, ah, never let me leave thy side!

No time shall part us, and no fate divide,

Not though the god, that breathed my life, restore

The bloom I boasted, and the port I bore,

When Greece of old beheld my youthful flames

(Delightful Greece, the land of lovely dames),

My father faithless to my mother’s arms,

Old as he was, adored a stranger’s charms.

I tried what youth could do (at her desire)

To win the damsel, and prevent my sire.

My sire with curses loads my hated head,

And cries, ‘Ye furies! barren be his bed.’

Infernal Jove, the vengeful fiends below,

And ruthless Proserpine, confirm’d his vow.

Despair and grief distract my labouring mind!

Gods! what a crime my impious heart design’d!

I thought (but some kind god that thought suppress’d)

To plunge the poniard in my father’s breast;

Then meditate my flight: my friends in vain

With prayers entreat me, and with force detain.

On fat of rams, black bulls, and brawny swine,

They daily feast, with draughts of fragrant wine;

Strong guards they placed, and watch’d nine nights entire;

The roofs and porches flamed with constant fire.

The tenth, I forced the gates, unseen of all:

And, favour’d by the night, o’erleap’d the wall,

My travels thence through spacious Greece extend;

In Phthia’s court at last my labours end.

Your sire received me, as his son caress’d,

With gifts enrich’d, and with possessions bless’d.

The strong Dolopians thenceforth own’d my reign,

And all the coast that runs along the main.

By love to thee his bounties I repaid,

And early wisdom to thy soul convey’d:

Great as thou art, my lessons made thee brave:

A child I took thee, but a hero gave.

Thy infant breast a like affection show’d;

Still in my arms (an ever-pleasing load)

Or at my knee, by Phoenix wouldst thou stand;

No food was grateful but from Phoenix’ hand.²¹¹

I pass my watchings o’er thy helpless years,

The tender labours, the compliant cares,

The gods (I thought) reversed their hard decree,

And Phoenix felt a father’s joys in thee:

Thy growing virtues justified my cares,

And promised comfort to my silver hairs.

Now be thy rage, thy fatal rage, resign’d;

A cruel heart ill suits a manly mind:

The gods (the only great, and only wise)

Are moved by offerings, vows, and sacrifice;

Offending man their high compassion wins,

And daily prayers atone for daily sins.

Prayers are Jove’s daughters, of celestial race,

Lame are their feet, and wrinkled is their face;

With humble mien, and with dejected eyes,

Constant they follow, where injustice flies.

Injustice swift, erect, and unconfined,

Sweeps the wide earth, and tramples o’er mankind,

While Prayers, to heal her wrongs, move slow behind.

Who hears these daughters of almighty Jove,

For him they mediate to the throne above

When man rejects the humble suit they make,

The sire revenges for the daughters’ sake;

From Jove commission’d, fierce injustice then

Descends to punish unrelenting men.

O let not headlong passion bear the sway

These reconciling goddesses obey

Due honours to the seed of Jove belong,

Due honours calm the fierce, and bend the strong.

Were these not paid thee by the terms we bring,

Were rage still harbour’d in the haughty king;

Nor Greece nor all her fortunes should engage

Thy friend to plead against so just a rage.

But since what honour asks the general sends,

And sends by those whom most thy heart commends;

The best and noblest of the Grecian train;

Permit not these to sue, and sue in vain!

Let me (my son) an ancient fact unfold,

A great example drawn from times of old;

Hear what our fathers were, and what their praise,

Who conquer’d their revenge in former days.

“Where Calydon on rocky mountains stands²¹²

Once fought the Ætolian and Curetian bands;

To guard it those; to conquer, these advance;

And mutual deaths were dealt with mutual chance.

The silver Cynthia bade contention rise,

In vengeance of neglected sacrifice;

On OEneus fields she sent a monstrous boar,

That levell’d harvests, and whole forests tore:

This beast (when many a chief his tusks had slain)

Great Meleager stretch’d along the plain,

Then, for his spoils, a new debate arose,

The neighbour nations thence commencing foes.

Strong as they were, the bold Curetes fail’d,

While Meleager’s thundering arm prevail’d:

Till rage at length inflamed his lofty breast

(For rage invades the wisest and the best).

“Cursed by Althaea, to his wrath he yields,

And in his wife’s embrace forgets the fields.

(She from Marpessa sprung, divinely fair,

And matchless Idas, more than man in war:

The god of day adored the mother’s charms;

Against the god the father bent his arms:

The afflicted pair, their sorrows to proclaim,

From Cleopatra changed their daughter’s name,

And call’d Alcyone; a name to show

The father’s grief, the mourning mother’s woe.)

To her the chief retired from stern debate,

But found no peace from fierce Althaea’s hate:

Althaea’s hate the unhappy warrior drew,

Whose luckless hand his royal uncle slew;

She beat the ground, and call’d the powers beneath

On her own son to wreak her brother’s death;

Hell heard her curses from the realms profound,

And the red fiends that walk the nightly round.

In vain Ætolia her deliverer waits,

War shakes her walls, and thunders at her gates.

She sent ambassadors, a chosen band,

Priests of the gods, and elders of the land;

Besought the chief to save the sinking state:

Their prayers were urgent, and their proffers great:

(Full fifty acres of the richest ground,

Half pasture green, and half with vineyards crown’d:)

His suppliant father, aged OEneus, came;

His sisters follow’d; even the vengeful dame,

Althaea, sues; his friends before him fall:

He stands relentless, and rejects them all.

Meanwhile the victor’s shouts ascend the skies;

The walls are scaled; the rolling flames arise;

At length his wife (a form divine) appears,

With piercing cries, and supplicating tears;

She paints the horrors of a conquer’d town,

The heroes slain, the palaces o’erthrown,

The matrons ravish’d, the whole race enslaved:

The warrior heard, he vanquish’d, and he saved.

The Ætolians, long disdain’d, now took their turn,

And left the chief their broken faith to mourn.

Learn hence, betimes to curb pernicious ire,

Nor stay till yonder fleets ascend in fire;

Accept the presents; draw thy conquering sword;

And be amongst our guardian gods adored.”

Thus he: the stern Achilles thus replied:

“My second father, and my reverend guide:

Thy friend, believe me, no such gifts demands,

And asks no honours from a mortal’s hands;

Jove honours me, and favours my designs;

His pleasure guides me, and his will confines;

And here I stay (if such his high behest)

While life’s warm spirit beats within my breast.

Yet hear one word, and lodge it in thy heart:

No more molest me on Atrides’ part:

Is it for him these tears are taught to flow,

For him these sorrows? for my mortal foe?

A generous friendship no cold medium knows,

Burns with one love, with one resentment glows;

One should our interests and our passions be;

My friend must hate the man that injures me.

Do this, my Phoenix, ’tis a generous part;

And share my realms, my honours, and my heart.

Let these return: our voyage, or our stay,

Rest undetermined till the dawning day.”

He ceased; then order’d for the sage’s bed

A warmer couch with numerous carpets spread.

With that, stern Ajax his long silence broke,

And thus, impatient, to Ulysses spoke:

“Hence let us go—why waste we time in vain?

See what effect our low submissions gain!

Liked or not liked, his words we must relate,

The Greeks expect them, and our heroes wait.

Proud as he is, that iron heart retains

Its stubborn purpose, and his friends disdains.

Stern and unpitying! if a brother bleed,

On just atonement, we remit the deed;

A sire the slaughter of his son forgives;

The price of blood discharged, the murderer lives:

The haughtiest hearts at length their rage resign,

And gifts can conquer every soul but thine.²¹³

The gods that unrelenting breast have steel’d,

And cursed thee with a mind that cannot yield.

One woman-slave was ravish’d from thy arms:

Lo, seven are offer’d, and of equal charms.

Then hear, Achilles! be of better mind;

Revere thy roof, and to thy guests be kind;

And know the men of all the Grecian host,

Who honour worth, and prize thy valour most.”

“O soul of battles, and thy people’s guide!

(To Ajax thus the first of Greeks replied)

Well hast thou spoke; but at the tyrant’s name

My rage rekindles, and my soul’s on flame:

’Tis just resentment, and becomes the brave:

Disgraced, dishonour’d, like the vilest slave!

Return, then, heroes! and our answer bear,

The glorious combat is no more my care;

Not till, amidst yon sinking navy slain,

The blood of Greeks shall dye the sable main;

Not till the flames, by Hector’s fury thrown,

Consume your vessels, and approach my own;

Just there, the impetuous homicide shall stand,

There cease his battle, and there feel our hand.”

This said, each prince a double goblet crown’d,

And cast a large libation on the ground;

Then to their vessels, through the gloomy shades,

The chiefs return; divine Ulysses leads.

Meantime Achilles’ slaves prepared a bed,

With fleeces, carpets, and soft linen spread:

There, till the sacred morn restored the day,

In slumber sweet the reverend Phoenix lay.

But in his inner tent, an ampler space,

Achilles slept; and in his warm embrace

Fair Diomede of the Lesbian race.

Last, for Patroclus was the couch prepared,

Whose nightly joys the beauteous Iphis shared;

Achilles to his friend consign’d her charms

When Scyros fell before his conquering arms.

And now the elected chiefs whom Greece had sent,

Pass’d through the hosts, and reach’d the royal tent.

Then rising all, with goblets in their hands,

The peers and leaders of the Achaian bands

Hail’d their return: Atrides first begun:

“Say what success? divine Laertes’ son!

Achilles’ high resolves declare to all:

“Returns the chief, or must our navy fall?”

“Great king of nations! (Ithacus replied)

Fix’d is his wrath, unconquer’d is his pride;

He slights thy friendship, thy proposals scorns,

And, thus implored, with fiercer fury burns.

To save our army, and our fleets to free,

Is not his care; but left to Greece and thee.

Your eyes shall view, when morning paints the sky,

Beneath his oars the whitening billows fly;

Us too he bids our oars and sails employ,

Nor hope the fall of heaven-protected Troy;

For Jove o’ershades her with his arm divine,

Inspires her war, and bids her glory shine.

Such was his word: what further he declared,

These sacred heralds and great Ajax heard.

But Phoenix in his tent the chief retains,

Safe to transport him to his native plains

When morning dawns; if other he decree,

His age is sacred, and his choice is free.”

Ulysses ceased: the great Achaian host,

With sorrow seized, in consternation lost,

Attend the stern reply. Tydides broke

The general silence, and undaunted spoke.

“Why should we gifts to proud Achilles send,

Or strive with prayers his haughty soul to bend?

His country’s woes he glories to deride,

And prayers will burst that swelling heart with pride.

Be the fierce impulse of his rage obey’d,

Our battles let him or desert or aid;

Then let him arm when Jove or he think fit:

That, to his madness, or to Heaven commit:

What for ourselves we can, is always ours;

This night, let due repast refresh our powers;

(For strength consists in spirits and in blood,

And those are owed to generous wine and food;)

But when the rosy messenger of day

Strikes the blue mountains with her golden ray,

Ranged at the ships, let all our squadrons shine

In flaming arms, a long-extended line:

In the dread front let great Atrides stand,

The first in danger, as in high command.”

Shouts of acclaim the listening heroes raise,

Then each to Heaven the due libations pays;

Till sleep, descending o’er the tents, bestows

The grateful blessings of desired repose.