The Greeks now riding on the Thracian shore, Till kinder gales invite, their vessels moor. Here the wide-opening earth to sudden view Disclosed Achilles, great as when he drew The vital air, but fierce with proud disdain, As when he sought Briseis to regain; When stern debate, and rash injurious strife Unsheathed his sword, to reach Atrides’ life. “And will ye go?” he said. “Is then the name Of the once great Achilles lost to fame? Yet stay, ungrateful Greeks; nor let me sue In vain for honours to my manes due. For this just end, Polyxena I doom With victim rites to grace my slighted tomb.”