“Move me no more, (Achilles thus replies, While kindling anger sparkled in his eyes,) Nor seek by tears my steady soul to bend: To yield thy Hector I myself intend: For know, from Jove my goddess-mother came, (Old Ocean’s daughter, silver-footed dame,) Nor comest thou but by heaven; nor comest alone, Some god impels with courage not thy own: No human hand the weighty gates unbarr’d, Nor could the boldest of our youth have dared To pass our outworks, or elude the guard. Cease; lest, neglectful of high Jove’s command, I show thee, king! thou tread’st on hostile land; Release my knees, thy suppliant arts give o’er, And shake the purpose of my soul no more.”