herefore from violence cease, nor persist in unsheathing the weapon:
Wound him with words at thy pleasure--in that let it fall as it chances.
Only of this be assur'd, for thyself shall behold it accomplish'd,
Threefold yet shall the King in magnificent gifts of atonement
Pay for the scorn of to-day; but restrain thee and yield to my warning."
Thus, in reply to Athena, said instantly noble Achilleus:--
"Me of a surety beseems it, O Goddess, to bend to thy counsel,
Fierce as mine anger may be; it is wiser to keep the commandment.
They that submit to the Gods shall be heard when they make supplication."
Press'd on the silvery hilt as he spake was the weight of his right
hand,
Back to the scabbard returning the terrible blade; nor obedience
He to Athena refus'd; and she sprang from his side to Olympus,
Up to the mansion of Zeus, to rejoin the assembly of Godheads.
Then did Achilles begin to reproach Agamemnon Atreides,
Hotly with venomous words, for as yet unappeased was his anger:--
"Bloated with wine! having eyes like a dog, but the heart of a she-deer!
Never with harness on back to be first when the people were arming,
Never in dark ambuscado to lie with the few and the fearless,
Courage exalted thy soul; this seems to thee courtship of death-doom.
Truly 'tis better by far in the wide-spread Danaeid leaguer
Robbing of guerdon achiev'd whosoe'er contradicts thee in presence!
People-devouring king! O fortunate captain of cowards--
Else, Agamemnon, to-day would have witness'd the last of thine outrage!
But I proclaim it before thee, and great is the oath that shall bind it--
Now by this rod, which can never put forth or a twig or a leaflet,
Since it was parted for aye from the root of its growth in the mountains,
Never to germinate more, in the hour when the brass of the woodman
Sever'd the bark and the sap: but the chiefs that administer judgment,
Guarding the law of the Gods, as a sign to the sons of Achaia
Bear it in hand:--upon this do I swear, and severe is the sanction!
Rue for Achilles hereafter shall rise in the Danaeid leaguer:--
Bitter the yearning shall be--nor in thee, howsoever afflicted,
Succour be found at their need--but remorse shall be raging within thee,
Tearing thy heart that by thee was the best of Achaians dishonour'd."
Speaking he dash'd on the ground, in the midst of the people, his
sceptre,
Garnish'd with circles of