To whom thus Agamemnon, King of men: “Son of Laertes, I accept thy speech With cordial welcome: all that thou hast said Is well and wisely spoken; for the oath, I am prepar’d, with willing mind, to swear; Nor in the sight of Heav’n will be forsworn. Let then Achilles here awhile remain, Though eager for the fray; ye too remain, Until the presents from my tent be brought, And we our solemn compact ratify. Then this command upon thyself I lay: That thou the noblest youths of all the Greeks Select, and bid them from my vessel bear The gifts, which, to Achilles yesternight We promis’d, and withal the women bring; And let Talthybius through the host seek out A boar, for sacrifice to Jove and Sol.” Whom answer’d thus Achilles swift of foot: “Most mighty Agamemnon, King of men, These matters to some future time were best Deferr’d, some hour of respite from the fight, Of rage less fiercely burning in my breast; But slaughter’d now they lie, whom Priam’s son, Hector, hath slain, by Jove to vict’ry led. Ye bid us take our food; if I might rule, I would to battle lead the sons of Greece, Unfed, and fasting; and at set of sun, Our shame aveng’d, an ample feast prepare; Till then, nor food nor drink shall pass my lips, My comrade slain; who pierc’d with mortal wounds, Turn’d tow’rd the doorway, lies within my tent, His mourning friends around; while there he lies, No thought have I for these or aught beside, Save carnage, blood, and groans of dying men.” To whom Ulysses, sage in council, thus: “O son of Peleus, noblest of the Greeks, How far, Achilles, thou surpassest me In deeds of arms, I know: but thou must yield To me in counsel, for my years are more, And my experience greater far than thine: Then to my words incline a patient ear. Men soonest weary of battle, where the sword The bloodiest harvest reaps; the lightest crop Of slaughter is where Jove inclines the scale, Dispenser, at his will, of human wars. The Greeks by fasting cannot mourn their dead; For day by day successive numbers fall; Where were the respite then from ceaseless fast? Behoves us bury out of sight our dead, Steeling our hearts, and weeping but a day; And we, the rest, whom cruel war has spar’d, Should first with food and wine recruit our strength; Then, girding on our arms, the livelong day Maintain the war, unwearied; then let none Require a farther summons to the field; (And woe to him who loit’ring by the ships That summons hears;) but with united force Against the Trojans wake the furious war.”