as Achilles with superior care Had call'd the chiefs, and order'd all the war, This stern remembrance to his troops he gave: "Ye far-famed Myrmidons, ye fierce and brave! Think with what threats you dared the Trojan throng, Think what reproach these ears endured so long; 'Stern son of Peleus, (thus ye used to say, While restless, raging, in your ships you lay) Oh nursed with gall, unknowing how to yield; Whose rage defrauds us of so famed a field: If that dire fury must for ever burn, What make we here? Return, ye chiefs, return!' Such were your words--Now, warriors! grieve no more, Lo there the Trojans; bathe your swords in gore! This day shall give you all your soul demands, Glut all your hearts, and weary all your hands!" [Illustration: DIANA.] DIANA. Thus while he roused the fire in every breast, Close and more close the listening cohorts press'd; Ranks wedged in ranks; of arms a steely ring Still grows, and spreads, and thickens round the king. As when a circling wall the builder forms, Of strength defensive against wind and storms, Compacted stones the thickening work compose, And round him wide the rising structure grows: So helm to helm, and crest to crest they throng, Shield urged on shield, and man drove man along; Thick, undistinguish'd plumes, together join'd, Float in one sea, and wave before the wind. Far o'er the rest in glittering pomp appear, There bold Automedon, Patroclus here; Brothers in arms, with equal fury fired; Two friends, two bodies with one soul inspired. But mindful of the gods, Achilles went To the rich coffer in his shady tent; There lay on heaps his various garments roll'd, And costly furs, and carpets stiff with gold, (The presents of the silver-footed dame) From thence he took a bowl, of antique frame, Which never man had stained with ruddy wine, Nor raised in offerings to the power divine