THE SPEECH OF ACHILLES.

THEN thus the goddess-born- Ulysses, hear
A faithful speech that knows nor art nor fear :
What in my secret soul is understood,

My tongue shall utter, and my deeds make good.
Let Greece then know my purpose I retain :
Nor with new treaties vex my peace in vain.
Who dares think one thing, and another tell,
My heart detests him as the gates of hell.

Then thus in short my fix'd resolves attend,
Which nor Atrides nor his Greeks can bend;
Long toils, long perils in their cause I bore,
But now the' unfruitful glories charm no more.
Fight or not fight, a like reward we claim,
The wretch and hero find their prize the same;
Alike regretted in the dust he lies,

Who yields ignobly, or who bravely dies.
Of all my dangers, all my glorious pains,
A life of labours, lo! what fruit remains?
As the bold bird her helpless young attends,
From danger guards them, and from want defends;
In search of prey she wings the spacious, air,
And with the' untasted food supplies her care;
For thankless Greece such hardships have I
braved,

Her wives, her infants, by my labours saved;
Long sleepless nights in heavy arms I stood,
And sweat laborious days in dust and blood.
I sack'd twelve ample cities on the main,
And twelve lay smoking on the Trojan plain :

Then at Atrides' haughty feet were laid
The wealth I gather'd, and the spoils I made.
Your mighty monarch these in peace possess'd;
Some few my soldiers had, himself the rest.
Some present too to every prince was paid;
And every prince enjoys the gift he made :
I only must refund, of all his train;
See what preeminence our merits gain!
My spoil alone his greedy soul delights;
My spouse alone must bless his lustful nights:
The woman, let him (as he may) enjoy;
But what's the quarrel then of Greece to Troy?
What to these shores the' assembled nations draws,
What calls for vengeance, but a woman's cause?
Are fair endowments and a beauteous face
Beloved by none but those of Atreus' race?
The wife whom choice and passion doth approve,
Sure every wise and worthy man will love.
Nor did my fair one less distinction claim;
Slave as she was, my soul adored the dame.
Wrong'd in my love, all proffers I disdain;
Deceived for once, I trust not kings again.
Ye have my answer, what remains to do,
Your king, Ulysses, may consult with you.
What needs he the defence this arm can make?
Has he not walls no human force can shake?
Has he not fenced his guarded navy round
With piles, with ramparts, and a trench profound?
And will not these (the wonders he has done)
Repel the rage of Priam's single son?
There was a time ('twas when for Greece I fought)
When Hector's prowess no such wonders wrought;
He kept the verge of Troy, nor dared to wait
Achilles' fury at the Scæan gate:

He tried it once, and scarce was saved by Fate.

But now those ancient enmities are o'er;
To-morrow we the favouring gods implore;
Then shall you see our parting vessels crown'd,
And hear with oars the Hellespont resound.
The third day hence shall Phthia greet our sails,
If mighty Neptune send propitious gales;
Phthia to her Achilles shall restore

The wealth he left for this detested shore:
Thither the spoils of this long war shall pass,
The ruddy gold, the steel, and shining brass;
My beauteous captives thither I'll convey,
And all that rests of my unravish'd prey.
One only valued gift your tyrant gave,
And that resumed; the fair Lyrnessian slave.
Then tell him; loud, that all the Greeks may hear,
And learn to scorn the wretch they basely fear;
(For arm'd in impudence, mankind he braves,
And meditates new cheats on all his slaves;
Though shameless as he is, to face these eyes
Is what he dares not; if he dares, he dies)
Tell him, all terms, all commerce I decline,
Nor share his counsel, nor his battle join;
For once deceived, was his; but twice, were mine.
No-let the stupid prince, whom Jove deprives
Of sense and justice, run where frenzy drives;
His gifts are hateful: kings of such a kind
Stand but as slaves before a noble mind.
Not though he proffer'd all himself possess'd,
And all his rapine could from others wrest;
Not all the golden tides of wealth that crown
The many peopled Orchomenian town;
Not all proud Thebes' unrival'd walls contain,
The world's great Empress on the' Egyptian plain

VOL. VI.

D

(That spreads her conquests o'er a thousand states, And pours her heroes through a hundred gates, Two hundred horsemen and two hundred cars From each wide portal issuing to the wars), Though bribes were heap'd on bribes, in number

more

Than dust in fields, or sand along the shore;
Should all these offers for my friendship call;
"Tis he that offers, and I scorn them all.
Atrides' daughter never shall be led

(An ill match'd consort) to Achilles' bed;
Like golden Venus though she charm'd the heart,
And vied with Pallas in the works of art:
Some greater Greek let those high nuptials grace,
I hate alliance with a tyrant's race.

If Heaven restore me to my realms with life,
The reverend Peleus shall elect my wife;
Thessalian nymphs there are, of form divine,
And kings that sue to mix their blood with mine.
Bless'd in kind love, my years shall glide away,
Content with just hereditary sway;

There, deaf for ever to the martial strife,

Enjoy the dear prerogative of life.

Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold;
Not all Apollo's Pythian treasures hold,

Or Troy once held, in peace and pride of sway,
Can bribe the poor possession of a day!
Lost herds and treasures we by arms regain,
And steeds unrival'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 the message as ye may-
But here this night let reverend Phoenix stay:
His tedious toils and hoary hairs demand
A peaceful death in Phthia's friendly land.
But whether he remain, or sail with me,
His age be sacred, and his will be free.'

HOMER.

POPE.

DESCRIPTION OF JUNO.

WITH joy the glorious conflict she survey'd,
Where her great brother gave the Grecians aid,
But placed aloft, on Ida's shady height
She sees her Jove, and trembles at the sight.
Jove to deceive, what methods shall she try,
What arts, to blind his all-beholding eye?