Whom answer’d thus Achilles, swift of foot: “Heav’n-born Ulysses, sage in council, son Of great Laertes, I must frankly speak My mind at once, my fix’d resolve declare: That from henceforth I may not by the Greeks, By this man and by that, be importun’d. Him as the gates of hell my soul abhors, Whose outward words his secret thoughts belie, Hear then what seems to me the wisest course. On me nor Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, Nor others shall prevail, since nought is gain’d By toil unceasing in the battle field. Who nobly fight, but share with those who skulk; Like honours gain the coward and the brave; Alike the idlers and the active die: And nought it profits me, though day by day In constant toil I set my life at stake; But as a bird, though ill she fare herself, Brings to her callow brood the food she takes, So I through many a sleepless night have lain, And many a bloody day have labour’d through, Engag’d in battle on your wives’ behalf. Twelve cities have I taken with my ships; Eleven more by land, on Trojan soil: From all of these abundant stores of wealth I took, and all to Agamemnon gave; He, safe beside his ships, my spoils receiv’d, A few divided, but the most retain’d. To other chiefs and Kings he meted out Their sev’ral portions, and they hold them still; From me, from me alone of all the Greeks, He bore away, and keeps my cherish’d wife; Well! let him keep her, solace of his bed! But say then, why do Greeks with Trojans fight? Why hath Atrides brought this mighty host To Troy, if not in fair-hair’d Helen’s cause? Of mortals are there none that love their wives, Save Atreus’ sons alone? or do not all, Who boast the praise of sense and virtue, love And cherish each his own? as her I lov’d E’en from my soul, though captive of my spear. Now, since he once hath robb’d me, and deceiv’d, Let him not seek my aid; I know him now, And am not to be won; let him devise, With thee, Ulysses, and the other Kings, How best from hostile fires to save his ships. He hath completed many mighty works Without my aid; hath built a lofty wall, And dug a trench around it, wide and deep, And in the trench hath fix’d a palisade; Nor so the warrior-slayer Hector’s might Can keep in check; while I was in the field, Not far without the walls would Hector range His line of battle, nor beyond the Oak And Scaean gates would venture; there indeed He once presum’d to meet me, hand to hand, And from my onset narrowly escap’d. But as with Hector now no more I fight, To-morrow morn, my off’rings made to Jove, And all the Gods, and freighted well my ships, And launch’d upon the main, thyself shall see, If that thou care to see, my vessels spread O’er the broad bosom of the Hellespont, My lusty crews plying the vig’rous oar; And if th’ Earth-shaker send a fav’ring breeze, Three days will bear us home to Phthia’s shore. There did I leave abundant store of wealth, When hitherward I took my luckless way; Thither from hence I bear, of ruddy gold,