Thetis.

The deep recesses of this rocky isle, That far from undersea riseth to crown Its flowery head above the circling waves, A home for men with groves and gardens green, I chose not ill to be the hiding-place Of my loved son. Alas, I could not take him To live in my blue caverns, where the nymphs Own me for queen: and hateful is the earth To me, and all remembrance, since that morn, When, in the train of May wandering too far, I trafficked with my shells and pearls to buy Her fragrant roses and fresh lilies white. Accurst the day and thou, ah, wretched Peleus, Who forcedst me to learn the fears that women Have for their mortal offspring: who but I, Thetis, Poseidon’s daughter, who alone But I of all the immortals have known this, To bear and love a son in human kind? And yet not wholly ill is the constraint, Nor do I pity mortals to be born Heirs of desire and death, and the rich thought Denied to easy pleasure in the days That neither bring nor take; tho’ more to me Embittered with foreknowledge of a doom Threatened by fate, and labour how to avert. For to me, questioning the high decrees By which the sweetly tyrannous stars allot Their lives and deaths to men, answer was given That for my son Achilles there was ruled One of two things, and neither good; the better A long and easy life, the worse a death Untimely-glorious, which should set his name First of the Greeks;—for so must seem to me Better and worse, so even an earthly mother Had for him chosen, tho’ for the right he died, And conquered all the gods that succour Troy.— But when I, thinking he must share my fear, Showed him the choice, he made a mortal plunge For glorious death, and would have straight gone forth To seek it; but in tenderness for me,— Whom without shame he honours, and in this My love repays,—he to my tears consented To hide him from his fate; and here he dwells Disguised among the maidens like a maiden;— For so his beauty and youth permit,—to serve The daughter of the king of this fair isle, Who calls him Pyrrha for his golden hair, And knowing not prefers him o’er the rest. But I with frequent visitings assure me That he obeys; and,—for I have the power To change my semblance,—I will sometimes run In likeness of a young and timorous fawn Before the maiden train, that give me chase Far in the woods, till he outstrip them all; Then turn I quick at bay with loved surprise, And bid him hail: or like a snake I glide Under the flowers, where they sit at play, And showing suddenly my gleaming eyes, All fly but he, and we may speak alone. Thus oft my love will lead me, but to-day More special need hath brought: for on the seas I met at dawn a royal ship of Greece Slow stemming toward this isle. What that might bode, And who might sail thereon, I guessed; and taking A dolphin’s shape, that thro’ the heavy waters Tumbles in sport, around the labouring prow I gambolled, till her idle crew stood by To watch me from the wooden battlements. And surely among them there full soon I saw, Even as I feared, the man I feared, agaze With hypocrite eyes, the prince of Ithaca, That searcheth for Achilles: of all the Greeks Whom most I dread, for his own endless wiles, And for Athena’s aid. Him when I saw, Lest I should be too late, I hither sped To warn my son, and here shall meet him soon,— Tho’ yet he hath not come,—for on these lawns The damsels of the court are wont to play, And he with them. Hark! see! even now. Nay, nay. Alas! who cometh thus? Ah, by that gait Crouching along, it is my persecutor, Ulysses. Woe is me! I must fly hence. Tho’ he should know me not, I fear to face him, My hated foe, alert, invincible Of will, full of self-love and mortal guile. [Exit.

Enter Ulysses from the bushes, followed by Diomede, who wears a Lion’s skin.