Thus Chryses pray’d:—the favouring power attends, And from Olympus’ lofty tops descends. Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound;[50] Fierce as he moved, his silver shafts resound. Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread, And gloomy darkness roll’d about his head. The fleet in view, he twang’d his deadly bow, And hissing fly the feather’d fates below. On mules and dogs the infection first began;[51] And last, the vengeful arrows fix’d in man. For nine long nights, through all the dusky air, The pyres, thick-flaming, shot a dismal glare. But ere the tenth revolving day was run, Inspired by Juno, Thetis’ godlike son Convened to council all the Grecian train; For much the goddess mourn’d her heroes slain.[52] The assembly seated, rising o’er the rest, Achilles thus the king of men address’d: