That moment forth, and unperceived alike
By guards and menial woman, leap’d the wall. 
Through spacious Hellas flying thence afar,
I came at length to Phthia the deep-soil’d, 590
Mother of flocks, and to the royal house
Of Peleus; Peleus with a willing heart
Receiving, loved me as a father loves
His only son, the son of his old age,
Inheritor of all his large demesnes. 595
He made me rich; placed under my control
A populous realm, and on the skirts I dwelt
Of Phthia, ruling the Dolopian race. 
Thee from my soul, thou semblance of the Gods,
I loved, and all illustrious as thou art, 600
Achilles! such I made thee.  For with me,
Me only, would’st thou forth to feast abroad,
Nor would’st thou taste thy food at home, ’till first
I placed thee on my knees, with my own hand
Thy viands carved and fed thee, and the wine 605
Held to thy lips; and many a time, in fits
Of infant frowardness, the purple juice
Rejecting thou hast deluged all my vest,
And fill’d my bosom.  Oh, I have endured
Much, and have also much perform’d for thee, 610
Thus purposing, that since the Gods vouchsaf’d
No son to me, thyself shouldst be my son,
Godlike Achilles! who shouldst screen perchance
From a foul fate my else unshelter’d age. 
Achilles! bid thy mighty spirit down. 615
Thou shouldst not be thus merciless; the Gods,
Although more honorable, and in power
And virtue thy superiors, are themselves
Yet placable; and if a mortal man
Offend them by transgression of their laws, 620
Libation, incense, sacrifice, and prayer,
In meekness offer’d turn their wrath away. 
Prayers are Jove’s daughters,[15] wrinkled,[16] lame, slant-eyed,
Which though far distant, yet with constant pace
Follow Offence.  Offence, robust of limb, 625
And treading firm the ground, outstrips them all,
And over all the earth before them runs
Hurtful to man.  They, following, heal the hurt. 
Received respectfully when they approach,
They help us, and our prayers hear in return. 630
But if we slight, and with obdurate heart
Resist them, to Saturnian Jove they cry
Against us, supplicating that Offence
May cleave to us for vengeance of the wrong. 
Thou, therefore, O Achilles! honor yield 635
To Jove’s own daughters, vanquished, as the brave
Have ofttimes been, by honor paid to thee. 
For came not Agamemnon as he comes
With gifts in hand, and promises of more
Hereafter; burn’d his anger still the same, 640
I would not move thee to renounce thy own,
And to assist us, howsoe’er distress’d. 
But now, not only are his present gifts
Most liberal, and his promises of more
Such also, but these Princes he hath sent