“Prophet of evil! Never hadst thou yet A cheerful word for me. To mark the signs Of coming mischief is thy great delight. Good dost thou ne’er foretell nor bring to pass. And now thou pratest, in thine auguries, Before the Greeks, how that the archer-god Afflicts us thus, because I would not take The costly ransom offered to redeem The virgin child of Chryses. ’Twas my choice To keep her with me, for I prize her more Than Clytemnestra, bride of my young years, And deem her not less nobly graced than she, In form and feature, mind and pleasing arts. Yet will I give her back, if that be best; For gladly would I see my people saved From this destruction. Let meet recompense, Meantime, be ready, that I be not left, Alone of all the Greeks, without my prize. That were not seemly. All of you perceive That now my share of spoil has passed from me.”