with heaps of gold. Not all Apollo's Pythian treasures hold, Or Troy once held, in peace and pride of sway, Can bribe the poor possession of a day! Lost herds and treasures we by arms regain, And steeds unrivall'd on the dusty plain: But from our lips the vital spirit fled, Returns no more to wake the silent dead. My fates long since by Thetis were disclosed, And each alternate, life or fame, proposed; Here, if I stay, before the Trojan town, Short is my date, but deathless my renown: If I return, I quit immortal praise For years on years, and long-extended days. Convinced, though late, I find my fond mistake, And warn the Greeks the wiser choice to make; To quit these shores, their native seats enjoy, Nor hope the fall of heaven-defended Troy. Jove's arm display'd asserts her from the skies! Her hearts are strengthen'd, and her glories rise. Go then to Greece, report our fix'd design; Bid all your counsels, all your armies join, Let all your forces, all your arts conspire, To save the ships, the troops, the chiefs, from fire. One stratagem has fail'd, and others will: Ye find, Achilles is unconquer'd still. Go then--digest my message as ye may-- But here this night let reverend Phoenix stay: His tedious toils and hoary hairs demand A peaceful death in Pthia's friendly land. But whether he remain or sail with me, His age be sacred, and his will be free." [Illustration: GREEK GALLEY.] GREEK GALLEY. The son of Peleus ceased: the chiefs around In silence wrapt, in consternation drown'd, Attend the stern reply. Then Phoenix rose; (Down his white beard a stream of sorrow flows;) And while the fate of suffering Greece he mourn'd, With accent weak these tender words return'd. [Illustration: PROSERPINE.] PROSERPINE. "Divine Achilles! wilt thou then retire, And leave our hosts in blood