That never I shall see him more return’d to Peleus’ court. And all that short life he hath spent in most unhappy sort; For first he won a lovely dame, and had her by the hands Of all the Grecians, yet this dame Atrides countermands; For which in much disdain he mourn’d, and almost pin’d away. And yet for this wrong he receiv’d some honour, I must say; The Greeks, being shut up at their ships, not suffer’d to advance A head out of their batter’d sterns; and mighty suppliance By all their grave men hath been made, gifts, honours, all propos’d For his reflection; yet he still kept close, and saw enclos’d Their whole host in this gen’ral plague. But now his friend put on His arms, being sent by him to field, and many a Myrmidon In conduct of him. All the day, they fought before the gates Of Scæa, and, most certainly, that day had seen the dates Of all Troy’s honours in her dust, if Phœbus (having done Much mischief more) the envied life of good Menœtius’ son Had not with partial hands enforc’d, and all the honour giv’n To Hector, who hath pris’d his arms. And therefore I am driv’n T’ embrace thy knees for new defence to my lov’d son. Alas! His life, prefix’d so short a date, had need spent that with grace. A shield then for him, and a helm, fair greaves, and curets, such As may renown thy workmanship, and honour him as much, I sue for at thy famous hands.” “Be confident,” said he, “Let these wants breed thy thoughts no care. I would it lay in me To hide him from his heavy death, when fate shall seek for him, As well as with renownéd arms to fit his goodly limb; Which thy hands shall convey to him; and all eyes shall admire, See, and desire again to see, thy satisfied desire.” This said, he left her there, and forth did to his bellows go, Appos’d them to the fire again, commanding them to blow. Through twenty holes made to his hearth at once blew twenty pair, That fir’d his coals, sometimes with soft, sometimes with vehement, air, As he will’d, and his work requir’d. Amids the flame he cast Tin, silver, precious gold, and brass; and in a stock he plac’d A mighty anvil; his right hand a weighty hammer held, His left his tongs. And first he forg’d a strong and spacious shield Adorn’d with twenty sev’ral hues; about whose verge he beat A ring, three-fold and radiant, and on the back he set A silver handle; five-fold were the equal lines he drew About the whole circumference, in which his hand did shew (Directed with a knowing mind) a rare variety; For in it he presented Earth; in it the Sea and Sky; In it the never-wearied Sun, the Moon exactly round, And all those Stars with which the brows of ample heav’n are crown’d, Orion, all the Pleiades, and those sev’n Atlas got, The close-beam’d Hyades, the Bear, surnam’d the Chariot, That turns about heav’n’s axle-tree, holds ope a constant eye Upon Orion, and, of all the cressets in the sky, His golden forehead never bows to th’ Ocean empery. Two cities in the spacious shield he built, with goodly state