Inherit first these trophies of the field; To Scyros, or to Phthia, send the shield: And Teucer has an uncle’s right; yet he Waves his pretensions, nor contends with me. Then since the cause on pure desert is placed, Whence shall I take my rise, what reckon last? I not presume on every act to dwell, But take these few, in order as they fell. Thetis, who knew the fates, applied her care To keep Achilles in disguise from war; And till the threatening influence was past, A woman’s habit on the hero cast: All eyes were cozen’d by the borrow’d vest, And Ajax (never wiser than the rest) Found no Pelides there: at length I came With proffer’d wares to this pretended dame; She, not discover’d by her mien or voice, Betray’d her manhood by her manly choice; And while on female toys her fellows look, Grasp’d in her warlike hand, a javelin shook: Whom, by this act reveal’d, I thus bespoke: ‘Oh goddess born! resist not Heaven’s decree, The fall of Ilium is reserved for thee.’ Then seized him, and produced in open light,