Whom answer’d thus Achilles, swift of foot: “Phoenix, my second father, rev’rend sire, Such honours move me not; my honour comes From Jove, whose will it is that I should here Remain beside the ships, while I retain Breath in my lungs and vigour in my limbs. This too I say, and bear it in thy mind: Disturb me not with weeping and complaints, To do Atrides grace; if him thou love, My love for thee perchance may turn to hate: My friend should honour him who honours me. But come with me, and of my kingdom half, And equal honours shalt thou share with me. These shall our message bear; stay thou the while, And on soft couch repose; to-morrow morn Will we determine or to sail or stay.” He said, and with his eyebrows gave a sign In silence to Patroclus, to prepare A bed for Phoenix, that without delay The rest might leave the tent; then thus began Ajax, the godlike son of Telamon: “Ulysses sage, Laertes’ high-born son, Depart we now; for this way our discourse Can lead to no result; behoves us bear Our tidings, all unwelcome as they are, Back to the chiefs awaiting our return. Achilles hath allow’d his noble heart To cherish rancour and malignant hate; Nor reeks he of his old companions’ love, Wherewith we honour’d him above the rest. Relentless he! a son’s or brother’s death, By payment of a fine, may be aton’d; The slayer may remain in peace at home, The debt discharg’d; the other will forego, The forfeiture receiv’d, his just revenge; But thou maintain’st a stern, obdurate mood. And for a single girl! we offer sev’n, Surpassing fair, and other gifts to boot. We now bespeak thy courtesy; respect Thy hearth; remember that beneath thy roof We stand, deputed by the gen’ral voice Of all the host; and fain would claim to be, Of all the Greeks, thy best and dearest friends.” Whom answer’d thus Achilles, swift of foot: “Illustrious Ajax, son of Telamon, Without offence hast thou thy message giv’n; But fury fills my soul, whene’er I think How Agamemnon, ’mid th’ assembled Greeks, Insulting, held me forth to public scorn, As some dishonour’d, houseless vagabond. But go ye now, and bear my answer back: No more in bloody war will I engage, Till noble Hector, Priam’s godlike son, O’er slaughter’d Greeks, your ships enwrapp’d in fire, Shall reach the quarters of the Myrmidons. Ere he assail my ship and tents, I think That Hector, valiant as he is, will pause.” Thus he: they each the double goblet rais’d, And, to the Gods their due libations pour’d, Ulysses leading, to the ships return’d.