All he hath here, or any where, or Orchomen contains, To which men bring their wealth for strength, or all the store remains In circuit of Egyptian Thebes, where much hid treasure lies, Whose walls contain an hundred ports, of so admir’d a size Two hundred soldiers may a-front with horse and chariots pass. Nor, would he amplify all this like sand, or dust, or grass, Should he reclaim me, till this wreak pay’d me for all the pains That with his contumely burn’d, like poison, in my veins. Nor shall his daughter be my wife, although she might contend With golden Venus for her form, or if she did transcend Blue-ey’d Minerva for her works; let him a Greek select Fit for her, and a greater king. For if the Gods protect My safety to my father’s court, he shall choose me a wife. Many fair Achive princesses of unimpeachéd life In Helle and in Phthia live, whose sires do cities hold, Of whom I can have whom I will. And, more an hundred fold My true mind in my country likes to take a lawful wife Than in another nation; and there delight my life With those goods that my father got, much rather than die here. Not all the wealth of well-built Troy, possess’d when peace was there, All that Apollo’s marble fane in stony Pythos holds, I value equal with the life that my free breast enfolds. Sheep, oxen, tripods, crest-deck’d horse, though lost, may come again, But when the white guard of our teeth no longer can contain Our human soul, away it flies, and, once gone, never more To her frail mansion any man can her lost pow’rs restore. And therefore since my mother-queen, fam’d for her silver feet, Told me two fates about my death in my direction meet: The one, that, if I here remain t’ assist our victory, My safe return shall never live, my fame shall never die; If my return obtain success, much of my fame decays, But death shall linger his approach, and I live many days, This being reveal’d, ’twere foolish pride, t’ abridge my life for praise. Then with myself, I will advise, others to hoise their sail, For, ’gainst the height of Ilion, you never shall prevail, Jove with his hand protecteth it, and makes the soldiers bold. This tell the kings in ev’ry part, for so grave legates should, That they may better counsels use, to save their fleet and friends By their own valours; since this course, drown’d in my anger, ends. Phœnix may in my tent repose, and in the morn steer course For Phthia, if he think it good; if not, I’ll use no force.” All wonder’d at his stern reply; and Phœnix, full of fears His words would be more weak than just, supplied their wants with tears. “If thy return incline thee thus, Peleus’ renownéd joy, And thou wilt let our ships be burn’d with harmful fire of Troy, Since thou art angry, O my son, how shall I after be Alone in these extremes of death, relinquishéd by thee? I, whom thy royal father sent as ord’rer of thy force, When to Atrides from his court he left thee for this course,