LITMIR.BIZ

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       To all which Jove's will gave effect; from whom first strife begun

       Betwixt Atrides, king of men, and Thetis' godlike son.

       What god gave Eris their command, and op'd that fighting vein?

       Jove's and Latona's son: who fir'd against the king of men,

       For contumély shown his priest, infectious sickness sent

       To plague the army, and to death by troops the soldiers went.

       Occasion'd thus: Chryses, the priest, came to the fleet to buy,

       For presents of unvalu'd price, his daughter's liberty;

       The golden sceptre and the crown of Phœbus in his hands

       Proposing; and made suit to all, but most to the commands

       Of both th' Atrides, who most rul'd. "Great Atreus' sons," said he,

       "And all ye well-greav'd Greeks, the gods, whose habitations be

       In heav'nly houses, grace your pow'rs with Priam's razéd town,

       And grant ye happy conduct home! To win which wish'd renown

       Of Jove, by honouring his son, far-shooting Phœbus, deign

       For these fit presents to dissolve the ransomable chain

       Of my lov'd daughter's servitude." The Greeks entirely gave

       Glad acclamations, for sign that their desires would have

       The grave priest reverenc'd, and his gifts of so much price

       embrac'd.

       The Gen'ral yet bore no such mind, but viciously disgrac'd

       With violent terms the priest, and said:—"Dotard! avoid our fleet,

       Where ling'ring be not found by me; nor thy returning feet

       Let ever visit us again; lest nor thy godhead's crown,

       Nor sceptre, save thee! Her thou seek'st I still will hold mine

       own,

       Till age deflow'r her. In our court at Argos, far transferr'd

       From her lov'd country, she shall ply her web, and see prepar'd

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       With all fit ornaments my bed. Incense me then no more,

       But, if thou wilt be safe, be gone." This said, the sea-beat shore,

       Obeying his high will, the priest trod off with haste and fear;

       And, walking silent, till he left far off his enemies' ear,

       Phœbus, fair hair'd Latona's son, he stirr'd up with a vow,

       To this stern purpose: "Hear, thou God that bear'st the silver bow,

       That Chrysa guard'st, rul'st Tenedos with strong hand, and the

       round

       Of Cilia most divine dost walk! O Sminthëus! if crown'd

       With thankful off'rings thy rich fane I ever saw, or fir'd

       Fat thighs of oxen and of goats to thee, this grace desir'd

       Vouchsafe to me: pains for my tears let these rude Greeks repay,

       Forc'd with thy arrows." Thus he pray'd, and Phœebus heard him

       pray,

       And, vex'd at heart, down from the tops of steep heav'n stoop'd;

       his bow,

       And quiver cover'd round, his hands did on his shoulders throw;

       And of the angry Deity the arrows as he mov'd

       Rattled about him. Like the night he rang'd the host, and rov'd

       (Apart the fleet set) terribly; with his hard-loosing hand

       His silver bow twang'd; and his shafts did first the mules command,

       And swift hounds; then the Greeks themselves his deadly arrows

       shot.

       The fires of death went never out; nine days his shafts flew hot

       About the army; and the tenth, Achilles called a court

       Of all the Greeks; heav'n's white-arm'd Queen (who, ev'rywhere cut

       short,

       Beholding her lov'd Greeks, by death) suggested it; and he

       (All met in one) arose, and said: "Atrides, now I see

       We must be wandering again, flight must be still our stay,

       If flight can save us now, at once sickness and battle lay

       Such strong hand on us. Let us ask some prophet, priest, or prove

       Some dream-interpreter (for dreams are often sent from Jove)

       Why Phœbus is so much incens'd; if unperformed vows

       He blames in us, or hecatombs; and if these knees he bows

       To death may yield his graves no more, but off'ring all supply

       Of savours burnt from lambs and goats, avert his fervent eye,

       And turn his temp'rate." Thus, he sat; and then stood up to them

       Calchas, surnam'd Thestorides, of augurs the supreme;

       He knew things present, past, to come, and rul'd the equipage

       Of th' Argive fleet to Ilion, for his prophetic rage

       Giv'n by Apollo; who, well-seen in th' ill they felt, propos'd

       This to Achilles: "Jove's belov'd, would thy charge see disclos'd

       The secret of Apollo's wrath? then cov'nant and take oath

       To my discov'ry, that, with words and pow'rful actions both,

       Thy strength will guard the truth in me; because I well conceive

       That he whose empire governs all, whom all the Grecians give

       Confirm'd obedience, will be mov'd; and then you know the state

       Of him that moves him. When a king hath once mark'd for his hate

       A man inferior, though that day his wrath seems to digest

       Th' offence he takes, yet evermore he rakes up in his breast

       Brands of quick anger, till revenge hath quench'd to his desire

       The fire reservéd. Tell me, then, if, whatsoever ire

       Suggests in hurt of me to him, thy valour will prevent?"

       Achilles answer'd: "All thou know'st speak, and be confident;

       For by Apollo, Jove's belov'd, (to whom performing vows,

       O Calchas, for the state of Greece, thy spirit prophetic shows

       Skills that direct us) not a man of all these Grecians here,

       I living, and enjoy'ng the light shot through this flow'ry sphere,

       Shall touch thee with offensive hands; though Agamemnon be

       The man in question, that doth boast the mightiest empery

       Of all our army." Then took heart the prophet unreprov'd,

       And said: "They are not unpaid vows, nor hecatombs, that mov'd

       The God against us; his offence is for his priest impair'd

       By Agamemnon, that refus'd the present he preferr'd,

       And kept his daughter. This is cause why heav'n's Far-darter darts

       These plagues amongst us; and this still will empty in our hearts

       His deathful quiver, uncontain'd till to her lovéd sire

       The black-eyed damsel be resign'd; no rédemptory hire

       Took for her freedom,-not a gift, but all the ransom quit,

       And she convey'd, with sacrifice, till her enfranchis'd feet

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