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But so it pleased not Atreus' mighty son,30

       Who with rude threatenings stern him thence dismiss'd.

      Beware, old man! that at these hollow barks

       I find thee not now lingering, or henceforth

       Returning, lest the garland of thy God

       005 And his bright sceptre should avail thee nought.35

       I will not loose thy daughter, till old age

       Steal on her. From her native country far,

       In Argos, in my palace, she shall ply

       The loom, and shall be partner of my bed.

       Move me no more. Begone; hence while thou may'st.40

      He spake, the old priest trembled and obey'd.

       Forlorn he roamed the ocean's sounding shore,

       And, solitary, with much prayer his King

       Bright-hair'd Latona's son, Phœbus, implored.[4]

      God of the silver bow, who with thy power45

       Encirclest Chrysa, and who reign'st supreme

       In Tenedos and Cilla the divine,

       Sminthian[5] Apollo![6] If I e'er adorned Thy beauteous fane, or on the altar burn'd The fat acceptable of bulls or goats,50 Grant my petition. With thy shafts avenge On the Achaian host thy servant's tears.

      Such prayer he made, and it was heard.[7] The God, Down from Olympus with his radiant bow 006 And his full quiver o'er his shoulder slung,55 Marched in his anger; shaken as he moved His rattling arrows told of his approach. Gloomy he came as night; sat from the ships Apart, and sent an arrow. Clang'd the cord [8]Dread-sounding, bounding on the silver bow.[9]60 Mules first and dogs he struck,[10] but at themselves Dispatching soon his bitter arrows keen, Smote them. Death-piles on all sides always blazed. Nine days throughout the camp his arrows flew; The tenth, Achilles from all parts convened65 The host in council. Juno the white-armed Moved at the sight of Grecians all around Dying, imparted to his mind the thought.[11] The full assembly, therefore, now convened, Uprose Achilles ardent, and began.70

      007 Atrides! Now, it seems, no course remains

       For us, but that the seas roaming again,

       We hence return; at least if we survive;

       But haste, consult we quick some prophet here

       Or priest, or even interpreter of dreams,75

       (For dreams are also of Jove,) that we may learn

       By what crime we have thus incensed Apollo,

       What broken vow, what hecatomb unpaid

       He charges on us, and if soothed with steam

       Of lambs or goats unblemish'd, he may yet80

       Be won to spare us, and avert the plague.

      He spake and sat, when Thestor's son arose

       Calchas, an augur foremost in his art,

       Who all things, present, past, and future knew,

       And whom his skill in prophecy, a gift85

       Conferred by Phœbus on him, had advanced

       To be conductor of the fleet to Troy;

       He, prudent, them admonishing, replied.[12]

      Jove-loved Achilles! Wouldst thou learn from me

       What cause hath moved Apollo to this wrath,90

       The shaft-arm'd King? I shall divulge the cause.

       But thou, swear first and covenant on thy part

       That speaking, acting, thou wilt stand prepared

       To give me succor; for I judge amiss,

       Or he who rules the Argives, the supreme95

       O'er all Achaia's host, will be incensed.

       Wo to the man who shall provoke the King

       For if, to-day, he smother close his wrath,

       He harbors still the vengeance, and in time

       Performs it. Answer, therefore, wilt thou save me?100

      To whom Achilles, swiftest of the swift.

       What thou hast learn'd in secret from the God

       That speak, and boldly. By the son of Jove,

       Apollo, whom thou, Calchas, seek'st in prayer

       008 Made for the Danaï, and who thy soul105

       Fills with futurity, in all the host

       The Grecian lives not, who while I shall breathe,

       And see the light of day, shall in this camp

       Oppress thee; no, not even if thou name

       Him, Agamemnon, sovereign o'er us all.110

      Then was the seer embolden'd, and he spake.

       Nor vow nor hecatomb unpaid on us

       He charges, but the wrong done to his priest

       Whom Agamemnon slighted when he sought

       His daughter's freedom, and his gifts refused.115

       He is the cause. Apollo for his sake

       Afflicts and will afflict us, neither end

       Nor intermission of his heavy scourge

       Granting, 'till unredeem'd, no price required,

       The black-eyed maid be to her father sent,120

       And a whole hecatomb in Chrysa bleed.

       Then, not before, the God may be appeased.

      He spake and sat; when Atreus' son arose,

       The Hero Agamemnon, throned supreme.

       Tempests of black resentment overcharged125

       His heart, and indignation fired his eyes.

       On Calchas lowering, him he first address'd.

      Prophet of mischief! from whose tongue no note

       Of grateful sound to me, was ever heard;

       Ill tidings are thy joy, and tidings glad130

       Thou tell'st not, or thy words come not to pass.

       And now among the Danaï thy dreams

       Divulging, thou pretend'st the Archer-God

       For his priest's sake, our enemy, because

       I scorn'd his offer'd ransom of the maid135

       Chrysëis, more desirous far to bear

       Her to my home, for that she charms me more

       Than Clytemnestra, my own first espoused,

       With whom, in disposition, feature, form,

       Accomplishments, she may be well compared.140

       Yet, being such, I will return her hence

       If that she go be best. Perish myself—

       009 But let the people of my charge be saved

       Prepare ye, therefore, a reward for me,

       And seek it instant. It were much unmeet145

       That I alone of all the Argive host

       Should want due recompense, whose former prize

       Is elsewhere destined, as ye all perceive.

      To whom Achilles, matchless in the race.

       Atrides, glorious above all in rank,150

       And as intent on gain as thou art great,

       Whence shall the Grecians give a prize to thee?

       The general stock is poor; the spoil of towns

       Which we have taken, hath already passed

      

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