And reap what glory life's short harvest yields. Shall I not force some widow'd dame to tear With frantic hands her long dishevell'd hair? Shall I not force her breast to heave with sighs, And the soft tears to trickle from her eyes? Yes, I shall give the fair those mournful charms-- In vain you hold me--Hence! my arms! my arms!-- Soon shall the sanguine torrent spread so wide, That all shall know Achilles swells the tide." "My son (coerulean Thetis made reply, To fate submitting with a secret sigh,) The host to succour, and thy friends to save, Is worthy thee; the duty of the brave. But canst thou, naked, issue to the plains? Thy radiant arms the Trojan foe detains. Insulting Hector bears the spoils on high, But vainly glories, for his fate is nigh. Yet, yet awhile thy generous ardour stay; Assured, I meet thee at the dawn of day, Charged with refulgent arms (a glorious load), Vulcanian arms, the labour of a god." Then turning to the daughters of the main, The goddess thus dismiss'd her azure train: "Ye sister Nereids! to your deeps descend; Haste, and our father's sacred seat attend; I go to find the architect divine, Where vast Olympus' starry summits shine: So tell our hoary sire"--This charge she gave: The sea-green sisters plunge beneath the wave: Thetis once more ascends the bless'd abodes, And treads the brazen threshold of the gods. [Illustration: THETIS ORDERING THE NEREIDS TO DESCEND INTO THE SEA.] THETIS ORDERING THE NEREIDS TO DESCEND INTO THE SEA. And now the Greeks from furious Hector's force, Urge to broad Hellespont their headlong course; Nor yet their chiefs Patroclus' body bore Safe through the tempest to the tented shore. The horse, the foot, with equal fury join'd, Pour'd on the rear, and thunder'd close behind: And like a flame through fields of ripen'd corn, The rage of Hector o'er the ranks was borne. Thrice the slain hero by the foot he drew