Anger divine may be sooth'd, and the pestilence turn'd from the people." He, having spoke, sat down; and arose Thestorian Calchas, Prophet supreme among all, in the secrets of augury foremost; He that to Ilion's borders conducted the ships of Achaia, Such was the lore of the Seer by the blessing of Phoebus Apollo. He, with the counsel of wisdom, arose in the midst to address them:-- "Favour'd of Zens!" he began, "thou commandest me, noble Achilleus, Here to interpret the wrath of the King, Far-darting Apollo. That will I therefore declare; but vouchsafe me, and swear to confirm it, Promptness and constancy true in the word and the hand of protection; For when I utter the cause, unto anger, I know, will be kindled He that of Argos is lord and obey'd in the host of Achaia. Heavy the hand of a king when the humble provokes his resentment; Say that he masters his mood, and the day of offending be scatheless, Yet shall he nurture the wrath thenceforth, till he perfect the vengeance, Deep in his bosom within. Speak thou, if the will be to save me." This was the answer he had, without pause, from the noble Peleides:-- "Speak with a confident heart whatsoever thy scrutiny reaches; For by Apollo I swear, by the Son of the Highest Kronion, None to whom thou shalt discover the truth of prophetical warning, Calling the Gods to attest--while I live, and mine eyes are undarken'd, None shall, for that revelation, lay hand of oppression upon thee; None of the Danäids all that are camp'd by the station of galleys-- Even if thou name Agamemnon, the first of the host in dominion." Then the unblamable Seer took heart, and bespake the Assembly:-- "Neither for forfeited vow is he wroth, nor for hecatomb wanting; But for the sake of his priest, who, dishonour'd by King Agamemnon, Pray'd for his daughter in vain, and the gifts that he brought were rejected; Therefore, the Archer Divine has afflicted, and more will afflict us, Nor shall the weight of his hand be remov'd in the pestilence wasting, Not till the Dark-eyed Maid is restor'd to the love of her father, Free, without ransoming price--and a hecatomb holy to Chrysa Sent for atonement of wrong: peradventure we then may appease him." He, having spoke, sat down: and anon, in the midst of the princes, Rose the heroic Atreides, the wide-sway'd lord, Agamemnon: Troubled in visage he rose, for the heart with the blackness of anger Swell'd in the breast of the King, and his eyes had the blaze of the firebrand. First to the Seer did he turn, and austere was the scowl when he nam'd him: "Prophet of evils! to me never word of thy mouth has been grateful; Gladness it sheds ever more on thy spirit to prophesy mischief. Never had good its announcement from thee, its accomplishment never! Here, then, art thou, with thy sanctified lore, in the leaguer proclaiming