such as might his soul proclaim; One eye was blinking, and one leg was lame: His mountain shoulders half his breast o'erspread, Thin hairs bestrew'd his long misshapen head. Spleen to mankind his envious heart possess'd, And much he hated all, but most the best: Ulysses or Achilles still his theme; But royal scandal his delight supreme, Long had he lived the scorn of every Greek, Vex'd when he spoke, yet still they heard him speak. Sharp was his voice; which in the shrillest tone, Thus with injurious taunts attack'd the throne. "Amidst the glories of so bright a reign, What moves the great Atrides to complain? 'Tis thine whate'er the warrior's breast inflames, The golden spoil, and thine the lovely dames. With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow, Thy tents are crowded and thy chests o'erflow. Thus at full ease in heaps of riches roll'd, What grieves the monarch? Is it thirst of gold? Say, shall we march with our unconquer'd powers (The Greeks and I) to Ilion's hostile towers, And bring the race of royal bastards here, For Troy to ransom at a price too dear? But safer plunder thy own host supplies; Say, wouldst thou seize some valiant leader's prize? Or, if thy heart to generous love be led, Some captive fair, to bless thy kingly bed? Whate'er our master craves submit we must, Plagued with his pride, or punish'd for his lust. Oh women of Achaia; men no more! Hence let us fly, and let him waste his store In loves and pleasures on the Phrygian shore. We may be wanted on some busy day, When Hector comes: so great Achilles may: From him he forced the prize we jointly gave, From him, the fierce, the fearless, and the brave: And durst he, as he ought, resent that wrong, This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long." Fierce from his seat at this Ulysses springs,(87) In generous vengeance of the king of kings. With indignation sparkling in his eyes, He views the wretch, and sternly thus rep