Never Dardanian foray had plunder'd my beeves nor my horses, Never on Phthia descending, in Thessaly's bountiful borders, Ravag'd the fruits of the field--since betwixt there was many a barrier, Shadowy mountains enow, and the roaring expanses of ocean. Only to gratify thee, Dog-face! and avenge Menelaus, Mov'd us to war upon Troy; and with thee it is counted for nothing! Masterful menace instead that by thee my reward shall be ravish'd, Won with the sweat of my brow, and assign'd by the sons of Achaia! Truly my share of the booty was never with thine to be measur'd When the Achaians had sackt any populous town of the Troad: Only when shock upon shock the turmoil of the battle was raging, Greater the work of my hands; but whenever we reacht the division Far did thy portion surpass. Nor has grudging been mine or complaining: Weary with warring, and pleas'd with a little, I went to my galley. Homeward to Thessaly, now!--I shall profit, I think, by departing-- Nor if I stay in dishonour, will heaping of plunder oppress thee." Thus on the instant replied the Commander of Men, Agamemnon:-- "Flee, if to that thou be minded: expect not from me a petition Here for my service to stop. Beside thee I have some to befriend me Now and hereafter: in chief, the Olympian's counselling foresight. Hatefullest ever to me hast thou been of the kings of Achaia; Nothing delighted thee e'er but contention and battle and bloodshed; And if thy strength be unmatcht, it is due to the gift of a Godhead. Hence with thee!--hence to thy home flee thou with thy ships and thy comrades! There over Myrmidons lord it; with me there is small estimation Either of thee or thy wrath; and take this for completing my menace: Since I am reft of Chrysëis for pleasing of Phoebus Apollo, Now, in a ship of mine own, and with men of mine own for attendance, Her will I send; but anon will I go and, within thy pavilion, Seize on the rosy Brisëis, thy guerdon--instructing thee clearly How I surpass thee in power, and that others beside may be cautious Neither to match them with me, or confront with the boldness of equals!" So did he speak: and the word had a sting; and the heart of Achilleus, Under the hair of his bosom, in tearing perplexity ponder'd, Whether unsheathing the sword from his thigh, to disperse interveners, Clearing the way at a swoop, and to strike at the life of Atreides, Or to control his resentment and master the fury within him. But as he struggled with thought and the burning confusion of impulse, Even as he mov'd in the scabbard his ponderous weapon, Athena Stood by, darting from heaven: for the white-arm'd Hera had sent her, She that had eyes on them both with a loving and equal concernment. Lighting behind him, she graspt at the thick fair curls of Peleides, Visible only to him, undiscover'd by all that surrounded. Fear on Achilleus fell, and he turn'd to her, instantly knowing