“Such was the old man’s charge, forgotten now. Yield, then, and lay thy wrath aside. Large gifts Doth Agamemnon offer, to appease Thy wounded spirit. Hear me, if thou wilt, Recount what gifts the monarch in his tent Hath promised thee:⁠—Seven tripods which the fire Hath never touched; six talents of pure gold; And twenty shining cauldrons; and twelve steeds Of hardy frame, victorious in the race, Whose feet have won him prizes in the games. No beggar would he be, nor yet with store Of gold unfurnished, in whose coffers lay The prizes those swift-footed steeds have won. Seven faultless women, skilled in household arts, He offers⁠—Lesbians, whom he chose when thou Didst overrun the populous Lesbian isle⁠— In beauty eminent among their sex. These he bestows, and with them he will send Her whom he took away⁠—Briseis, pure He swears it with a mighty oath⁠—as pure As when she left thy tent. All these he gives At once; and if, by favor of the gods, We lay the mighty city of Priam waste, Thou shalt load down thy galley with large store