Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 59, No. 367, May 1846

If peradventure by savour of lambs or of goats without blemish
Anger divine may be sooth'd, and the pestilence turn'd from the people."
He, having spoke, sat down; and arose Thestorian Calchas,
Prophet supreme among all, in the secrets of augury foremost;
He that to Ilion's borders conducted the ships of Achaia,
Such was the lore of the Seer by the blessing of Phœbus Apollo.
He, with the counsel of wisdom, arose in the midst to address them: —
"Favour'd of Zens!" he began, "thou commandest me, noble Achilleus,
Here to interpret the wrath of the King, Far-darting Apollo.
That will I therefore declare; but vouchsafe me, and swear to confirm it,
Promptness and constancy true in the word and the hand of protection;
For when I utter the cause, unto anger, I know, will be kindled
He that of Argos is lord and obey'd in the host of Achaia.
Heavy the hand of a king when the humble provokes his resentment;
Say that he masters his mood, and the day of offending be scatheless,
Yet shall he nurture the wrath thenceforth, till he perfect the vengeance,
Deep in his bosom within. Speak thou, if the will be to save me."
This was the answer he had, without pause, from the noble Peleides: —
"Speak with a confident heart whatsoever thy scrutiny reaches;
For by Apollo I swear, by the Son of the Highest Kronion,
None to whom thou shalt discover the truth of prophetical warning,
Calling the Gods to attest – while I live, and mine eyes are undarken'd,
None shall, for that revelation, lay hand of oppression upon thee;
None of the Danäids all that are camp'd by the station of galleys —
Even if thou name Agamemnon, the first of the host in dominion."
Then the unblamable Seer took heart, and bespake the Assembly: —
"Neither for forfeited vow is he wroth, nor for hecatomb wanting;
But for the sake of his priest, who, dishonour'd by King Agamemnon,
Pray'd for his daughter in vain, and the gifts that he brought were rejected;
Therefore, the Archer Divine has afflicted, and more will afflict us,
Nor shall the weight of his hand be remov'd in the pestilence wasting,
Not till the Dark-eyed Maid is restor'd to the love of her father,
Free, without ransoming price – and a hecatomb holy to Chrysa
Sent for atonement of wrong: peradventure we then may appease him."
He, having spoke, sat down: and anon, in the midst of the princes,
Rose the heroic Atreides, the wide-sway'd lord, Agamemnon:
Troubled in visage he rose, for the heart with the blackness of anger
Swell'd in the breast of the King, and his eyes had the blaze of the firebrand.
First to the Seer did he turn, and austere was the scowl when he nam'd him:
"Prophet of evils! to me never word of thy mouth has been grateful;
Gladness it sheds ever more on thy spirit to prophesy mischief.
Never had good its announcement from thee, its accomplishment never!
Here, then, art thou, with thy sanctified lore, in the leaguer proclaiming
All the afflictions we bear from the anger of Archer Apollo
Only from this to have sprung, that I gave not the damsel Chrysëis
Back for the gifts that were brought: – for I valued her more than the ransom,
Will'd her to stay in my home, and preferr'd her before Clytemnestra,
Her that I wedded a maid – nor in aught would comparison harm her,
Neither for form nor for face, nor for mind nor the skill of her fingers.
Yet even so am I willing to yield her, if this be the better:
Weal I desire for the people, and not their calamity lengthen'd.
But on the instant make ready a guerdon for me, that of Argives
I be not prizeless alone – methinks that of a truth were unseemly —
All of ye witnessing this, that the prize I obtain'd is to leave me."
Thus to him instantly answer'd the swift-footed noble Peleides: —
"Foremost in fame, Agamemnon, in greediness, too, thou art foremost.
Whence can a prize be assign'd by the generous host of Achaia?
Nowhere known unto us is a treasure of common possessions:
All that we took with a town was distributed right on the capture;
Nor is it seemly for states to resume and collect their allotments.
Render the maid to the God, and expect from the sons of Achaia
Threefold recompense back, yea fourfold, soon as Kronion
Grants us to waste and abolish the well-wall'd city of Troia."
So the Peleides – and thus, in reply, said the King Agamemnon: —
"Good as thou art in the dealings of battle, most noble Achilleus,
Try not the engines of craft; to come over me thus is beyond thee.
This the suggestion forsooth that, thyself being safe with thy booty,
I shall sit down without mine! I am bid to surrender the damsel:
This is the word – and 'tis well, if the generous host of Achaia
Yield me a prize in her stead that is fair and affords me contentment;
But if ye grant me not this, be it known, I will do myself justice —
Seizing what Aias obtain'd, or despoiling the tent of Odysseus;
Yea, peradventure, thine own – whatsoever the rage of the loser.
These, of a surety, are things to be duly consider'd hereafter;
Meantime, down to the deep let a black-hull'd galley be hauser'd,
Oarsmen selected and rang'd, and the hecatomb stow'd for the temple —
Mine be the care to accomplish the freight with the rosy Chrysëis.
Last, be some counsellor-chief for command of the galley appointed —
Whether Idomeneus be it, or Aias, or noble Odysseus,
Yea, or, Peleides, thyself, among terrible warriors foremost!
So shall by thee be achiev'd the appeasing of Archer Apollo."
Dark was the scowl of Achilles the rapid, as thus he made answer: —
"Oh! thou in impudence clothed! O heart, that is ever on lucre!
How can the words of thy mouth stir zeal in a single Achaian
Either to march in thy train, or to stand in the fierceness of onset?
Truly I came not, for one, out of hate for the spearmen of Troia,
Hither to battle with them – neither feud nor offence was between us.
Never Dardanian foray had plunder'd my beeves nor my horses,
Never on Phthia descending, in Thessaly's bountiful borders,
Ravag'd the fruits of the field – since betwixt there was many a barrier,
Shadowy mountains enow, and the roaring expanses of ocean.
Only to gratify thee, Dog-face! and avenge Menelaus,
Mov'd us to war upon Troy; and with thee it is counted for nothing!
Masterful menace instead that by thee my reward shall be ravish'd,
Won with the sweat of my brow, and assign'd by the sons of Achaia!
Truly my share of the booty was never with thine to be measur'd
When the Achaians had sackt any populous town of the Troad:
Only when shock upon shock the turmoil of the battle was raging,
Greater the work of my hands; but whenever we reacht the division
Far did thy portion surpass. Nor has grudging been mine or complaining: