Old Chiron

Old Chiron thus preach'd to his pupil Achilles I'll tell thee young gentleman, what the fate's will is: You my boy, must go, (The Gods will have it so,) To the seige of troy.

Thence never to return to Greece again, But before their walls to be slain. Yet let not your noble courage be cast down, But all the while you lay before the town Drink and drive care away, drink and be merry You'll never go the sooner to the Stygian Ferry