Whom answer’d Agamemnon, King of men: “Fly then, if such thy mind! I ask thee not On mine account to stay; others there are Will guard my honour and avenge my cause: And chief of all, the Lord of counsel, Jove! Of all the Heav’n-born Kings, thou art the man I hate the most; for thou delight’st in nought But war and strife: thy prowess I allow; Yet this, remember, is the gift of Heav’n. Return then, with thy vessels, if thou wilt, And with thy followers, home; and lord it there Over thy Myrmidons! I heed thee not! I care not for thy fury! Hear my threat: Since Phoebus wrests Chryseis from my arms, In mine own ship, and with mine own good crew, Her I send forth; and, in her stead, I mean, Ev’n from thy tent, myself, to bear thy prize, The fair Briseis; that henceforth thou know How far I am thy master; and that, taught By thine example, others too may fear To rival me, and brave me to my face.” Thus while he spake, Achilles chaf’d with rage; And in his manly breast his heart was torn With thoughts conflicting—whether from his side To draw his mighty sword, and thrusting by Th’ assembled throng, to kill th’ insulting King; Or school his soul, and keep his anger down. But while in mind and spirit thus he mus’d, And half unsheath’d his sword, from Heav’n came down Minerva, sent by Juno, white-arm’d Queen, Whose love and care both chiefs alike enjoy’d. She stood behind, and by the yellow hair She held the son of Peleus, visible To him alone, by all the rest unseen. Achilles, wond’ring, turn’d, and straight he knew The blue-eyed Pallas; awful was her glance; Whom thus the chief with winged words address’d: “Why com’st thou, child of aegis-bearing Jove? To see the arrogance of Atreus’ son? But this I say, and will make good my words, This insolence may cost him soon his life.” To whom the blue-ey’d Goddess thus replied: “From Heav’n I came, to curb, if thou wilt hear, Thy fury; sent by Juno, white-arm’d Queen, Whose love and care ye both alike enjoy. Cease, then, these broils, and draw not thus thy sword; In words, indeed, assail him as thou wilt. But this I promise, and will make it good, The time shall come, when for this insolence A threefold compensation shall be thine; Only be sway’d by me, and curb thy wrath.” Whom answer’d thus Achilles, swift of foot: “Goddess, I needs must yield to your commands, Indignant though I be—for so ’tis best; Who hears the Gods, of them his pray’rs are heard.” He said: and on the silver hilt he stay’d His pow’rful hand, and flung his mighty sword Back to its scabbard, to Minerva’s word Obedient: she her heav’nward course pursued To join th’ Immortals in th’ abode of Jove. But Peleus’ son, with undiminish’d wrath, Atrides thus with bitter words address’d: