Phoenix' grave command was graced, Laerces' valiant offspring led the last. Soon 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, Clo