And with the blue-eyed Pallas in her skill, I would not wed her. Let him choose among The Greeks a fitter husband—one whose rule Is wider than my own. For if the gods Preserve me, and I reach my home again, My father, Peleus, will bestow on me A consort. Many are the Achaian maids, Daughters of chiefs who hold our citadels In Hellas, and in Phthia, and of these, Her who shall most delight me I will make My well-beloved wife. My soul has longed Earnestly, with a fitting spouse betrothed Duly, to make my dwelling there, and there Enjoy the wealth which aged Peleus won; For not to be compared with life is all The wealth which, as men say, was treasured up In Ilium’s populous town in time of peace, Ere the Greeks came, nor all the stores contained Within the stony threshold of the god Who bears the bow, Apollo, on the coast Of rocky Pytho. We may gather spoil Of oxen and of fatling sheep, and bring Tripods from war, and yellow-manèd steeds: The breath of man no force can seize or hold, And when it leaves the enclosure of the teeth It comes not back. My mother said to me— The goddess, silver-footed Thetis, said— A twofold fate conducts me to my death;— If I remain to fight beneath the walls Of Ilium, my return will be cut off, But deathless my renown; if I return To the dear land in which my fathers dwell, My glory will be nought, but long my life, And late will come to me the stroke of death. And now I counsel all to sail for home, For never will ye see the overthrow Of lofty Ilium. Jove the Thunderer Stretches his great hand o’er her, and her sons Take courage. Go ye now, and take with you This message to the princes of the Greeks— As is the office of an embassy— And bid them meditate some wiser plan To save their galleys and the host of Greeks Within the hollow barques. The plan which brought You hither cannot serve you while I keep My anger unappeased. Let Phoenix stay To pass the night with us, that he may sail Tomorrow, if it please him, to the land We love; I take him not against his will.”
He ceased; and silent were the ambassadors, Astonished at his passionate words. At last Phoenix, the aged knight, with many tears And sighs, took up the word, in grief and fear Lest Hector should destroy the Grecian fleet:—