pursueHis own affections; the late jar, in which he thunder'd threats
Against Achilles, still he fed, and his affections' heats
Thus vented to Talthybius, and grave Eurybates,
Heralds, and ministers of trust, to all his messages.
"Haste to Achilles' tent; where take Briseis' hand, and bring
Her beauties to us. If he fail to yield her, say your king
Will come himself, with multitudes that shall the horribler
Make both his presence, and your charge, that so he dares defer."
This said, he sent them with a charge of hard condition.
They went unwillingly, and trod the fruitless sea's shore; soon
They reach'd the navy and the tents, in which the quarter lay
Of all the Myrmidons, and found the chief Chief in their sway
Set at his black bark in his tent. Nor was Achilles glad
To see their presence; nor themselves in any glory had
Their message, but with rev'rence stocd, and fear'd th' offended
king,
Ask'd not the dame, nor spake a word. He yet, well knowing the
thing
That caus'd their coming, grac'd them thus: "Heralds, ye men that
bear
The messages of men and gods, y' are welcome, come ye near.
I nothing blame you, but your king; 'tis he I know doth send
You for Briseis; she is his. Patroclus, honour'd friend,
Bring forth the damsel, and these men let lead her to their lord.
But, heralds, be you witnesses, before the most ador'd,
Before us mortals, and before your most ungentle king,
Of what I suffer, that, if war ever hereafter bring
My aid in question, to avert any severest bane
It brings on others, I am 'scus'd to keep mine aid in wane,
Since they mine honour. But your king, in tempting mischief, raves,
Nor sees at once by present things the future; how like waves
Ills follow ills; injustices being never so secure
In present times, but after-plagues ev'n then are seen as sure;
Which yet he sees not, and so soothes his present lust, which,
check'd,
Would check plagues future; and he might, in succouring right,
protect
Such as fight for his right at fleet. They still in safety fight,
That fight still justly." This speech us'd, Patroclus did the rite
His friend commanded, and brought forth Briseis from her tent,
Gave her the heralds, and away to th' Achive ships they went.
She sad, and scarce for grief could go. Her love all friends
forsook,
And wept for anger. To the shore of th' old sea he betook
Himself alone, and casting forth upon the purple sea
His wet eyes, and his hands to heav'n advancing, this sad plea
Made to his mother; "Mother! Since you brought me forth to breathe
So short a life, Olympius had good right to bequeath
My short life honour; yet that right he doth in no degree,
But lets Atrides do me shame, and force that prise from me
That all the Greeks gave." This with tears he utter'd, and she
heard,
Set with her old sire in his deeps, and instantly appear'd
Up from the grey sea like a cloud, sate by his side, and said:
"Why weeps my son? What grieves thee?
Speak, conceal not what hath laid
Such hard hand on thee, let both know." He, sighing like a storm,
Replied: "Thou dost know. Why should I things known again inform?
We march'd to Thebes, the sacred town of king Eëtion,
Sack'd it, and brought to fleet the spoil, which every valiant son
Of Greece indifferently shar'd. Atrides had for share
Fair-cheek'd Chryseis. After which, his priest that shoots so far,
Chryses, the fair Chryseis' sire, arriv'd at th' Achive fleet,
With infinite ransom, to redeem the dear imprison'd feet
Of his fair daughter. In his hands he held Apollo's crown,
And golden sceptre; making suit to ev'ry Grecian son,
But most the sons of Atreüs, the others' orderers,
Yet they least heard him; all the rest receiv'd with rev'rend ears
The motion, both the priest and gifts gracing, and holding worth
His wish'd acceptance. Atreus' son yet (vex'd) commanded forth
With rude terms Phœbus' rev'rend priest; who, angry, made retreat,
And pray'd to Phœbus, in whose grace he standing passing great
Got his petitión. The God an ill shaft sent abroad
That tumbled down the Greeks in heaps. The host had no abode
That was not visited. We ask'd a prophet that well knew
The cause of all; and from his lips Apollo's prophecies flew,
Telling his anger. First myself exhorted to appease
The anger'd God; which Atreus' son did at the heart displease,
And up he stood, us'd threats, perform'd. The black-eyed Greeks
sent home
Chryseis to her sire, and gave his God a hecatomb.
Then, for Briseis, to my tents Atrides' heralds came,
