[Illustration: Phoenix assists Achilles's captives]
"'This is my tragedy, THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS. Scene the first, Brisëis and the other captives of Achilles appear. They tear their hair and beat their breasts, to express the grief with which they are filled by the death of Patroclus. Unable even to support themselves, utterly prostrated by despair, they fall upon the stage. This, you will say, is a little daring; but that is exactly what I aim at. Let the small fry who swim in the waters of Helicon keep within the narrow bounds of imitation, without daring to o'erleap them; it is well, there is prudence in their timidity: but for me, I love invention; and I hold that, to move and overcome your spectators, you must present to their minds images which they could never have expected.
"'The captives, then, are lying on the earth. Phoenix, governor of Achilles, is with them. He assists them to rise, one after another; and, having placed them on their feet, he commences the argument of the drama in these lines:--
Hector shall fall; and Troy itself be spread In ruins, to avenge Patroclus dead. Proud Agamemnon, Camelus the grave, Nestor the wise, and Eumelus the brave, Leontes, skilled to hurl the spear along, Smooth-tongued Ulysses, Diomed the strong, Arm with Achilles. Lo! that hero drives Tow'rds Ilium's gates--appalling Ilium's wives-- His steeds immortal, urged across the plain So swift, the eye toils after them with pain. But still he cries: Dear Xanthus, Balius, fly! And when around ten thousand corses lie, When pallid Trojans scamper off like fillies, Regain your camp, but not without Achilles. Xanthus replies, bowing his head: You may Be sure, Achilles, we'll your will obey; But, while our pace with your impatience strives, Know that to you the fatal hour arrives-- The ox-eyed Juno thus the steed enlightening,-- And now the car moves with a speed quite frightening. The Greeks, beholding, utter cries of joy, So loud, they shake the very walls of Troy. Achilles, armed by Vulcan for the war, Appears more brilliant than the morning star; Or like the sun, when, in its bright career, It bursts on earth, dispelling night and fear; Or brilliant as the fires on mountains lighted, To guide poor swains, bewilder'd or benighted.[8]