Of all the Myrmidons, and found the chief Chief in their sway Set at his black bark in his tent. Nor was Achilles glad To see their presence; nor themselves in any glory had Their message, but with rev’rence stood, and fear’d th’ offended king, Ask’d not the dame, nor spake a word. He yet, well knowing the thing That caus’d their coming, grac’d them thus: “Heralds, ye men that bear The messages of men and gods, y’ are welcome, come ye near. I nothing blame you, but your king; ’tis he I know doth send You for Briseis; she is his. Patroclus, honour’d friend, Bring forth the damsel, and these men let lead her to their lord. But, heralds, be you witnesses, before the most ador’d, Before us mortals, and before your most ungentle king, Of what I suffer, that, if war ever hereafter bring My aid in question, to avert any severest bane It brings on others, I am ’scus’d to keep mine aid in wane, Since they mine honour. But your king, in tempting mischief, raves, Nor sees at once by present things the future; how like waves Ills follow ills; injustices being never so secure In present times, but after-plagues ev’n then are seen as sure; Which yet he sees not, and so soothes his present lust, which, check’d, Would check plagues future; and he might, in succouring right, protect Such as fight for his right at fleet. They still in safety fight, That fight still justly.” This speech us’d, Patroclus did the rite His friend commanded, and brought forth Briseis from her tent, Gave her the heralds, and away to th’ Achive ships they went. She sad, and scarce for grief could go. Her love all friends forsook, And wept for anger. To the shore of th’ old sea he betook Himself alone, and casting forth upon the purple sea His wet eyes, and his hands to heav’n advancing, this sad plea Made to his mother; “Mother! Since you brought me forth to breathe So short a life, Olympius had good right to bequeath My short life honour; yet that right he doth in no degree, But lets Atrides do me shame, and force that prise from me That all the Greeks gave.” This with tears he utter’d, and she heard, Set with her old sire in his deeps, and instantly appear’d Up from the grey sea like a cloud, sate by his side, and said: “Why weeps my son? What grieves thee? Speak, conceal not what hath laid Such hard hand on thee, let both know.” He, sighing like a storm, Replied: “Thou dost know. Why should I things known again inform? We march’d to Thebes, the sacred town of king Eëtion, Sack’d it, and brought to fleet the spoil, which every valiant son Of Greece indifferently shar’d. Atrides had for share Fair-cheek’d Chryseis. After which, his priest that shoots so far, Chryses, the fair Chryseis’ sire, arriv’d at th’ Achive fleet, With infinite ransom, to redeem the dear imprison’d feet Of his fair daughter. In his hands he held Apollo’s crown, And golden sceptre; making suit to ev’ry Grecian son, But most the sons of Atreüs, the others’ orderers,