And brass, and women fair, and iron hoar The share assign’d me; but my chiefest prize The monarch Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, Himself who gave, with insult takes away. To him then speak aloud the words I send, That all may know his crimes, if yet he hope Some other Greek by treach’rous wiles to cheat, Cloth’d as he is in shamelessness! my glance, All brazen as he is, he dare not meet. I share no more his counsels, nor his acts; He hath deceiv’d me once, and wrong’d; again He shall not cozen me! Of him, enough! I pass him by, whom Jove hath robb’d of sense. His gifts I loathe, and spurn; himself I hold At a hair’s worth; and would he proffer me Tenfold or twentyfold of all he has, Or ever may be his; or all the gold Sent to Orchomenos or royal Thebes, Egyptian, treasurehouse of countless wealth, Who boasts her hundred gates, through each of which With horse and car two hundred warriors march: Nay, were his gifts in number as the sand, Or dust upon the plain, yet ne’er will I By Agamemnon be prevail’d upon, Till I have paid him back my heart’s offence. Nor e’er of Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, Will I a daughter wed; not were she fair As golden Venus, and in works renown’d As Pallas, blue-ey’d Maid, yet her e’en so I wed not; let him choose some other Greek, Some fitting match, of nobler blood than mine. But should the Gods in safety bring me home, At Peleus’ hands I may receive a wife; And Greece can boast of many a lovely maid, In Hellas or in Phthia, daughters fair Of chiefs who hold their native fortresses: Of these, at will, a wife I may select: And ofttimes hath my warlike soul inclin’d To take a wedded wife, a fitting bride, And aged Peleus’ wealth in peace enjoy. For not the stores which Troy, they say, contain’d In peaceful times, ere came the sons of Greece, Nor all the treasures which Apollo’s shrine, The Archer-God, in rock-built Pythos holds, May weigh with life; of oxen and of sheep Successful forays may good store provide; And tripods may be gain’d, and noble steeds: But when the breath of man hath pass’d his lips, Nor strength nor foray can the loss repair. I by my Goddess-mother have been warn’d, The silver-footed Thetis, that o’er me A double chance of destiny impends: If here remaining, round the walls of Troy I wage the war, I ne’er shall see my home, But then undying glory shall be mine: If I return, and see my native land, My glory all is gone; but length of life Shall then be mine, and death be long deferr’d. If others ask’d my counsel, I should say, ‘Homeward direct your course; of lofty Troy Ye see not yet the end; all-seeing Jove O’er her extends his hand; on him relying Her people all with confidence are fill’d.’ Go then; my answer to the chiefs of Greece Speak boldly—such the privilege of age— Bid that some better counsel they devise To save their ships and men; their present scheme, My anger unappeas’d, avails them nought. But Phoenix here shall stay, and sleep to-night; And with the morrow he with me shall sail