To this the king: “Fly, mighty warrior! fly; Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy. There want not chiefs in such a cause to fight, And Jove himself shall guard a monarch’s right. Of all the kings (the god’s distinguish’d care) To power superior none such hatred bear: Strife and debate thy restless soul employ, And wars and horrors are thy savage joy, If thou hast strength, ’twas Heaven that strength bestow’d; For know, vain man! thy valour is from God. Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away; Rule thy own realms with arbitrary sway; I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate Thy short-lived friendship, and thy groundless hate. Go, threat thy earth-born Myrmidons:—but here[56] ’Tis mine to threaten, prince, and thine to fear. Know, if the god the beauteous dame demand, My bark shall waft her to her native land; But then prepare, imperious prince! prepare, Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive fair: Even in thy tent I’ll seize the blooming prize, Thy loved Briseïs with the radiant eyes. Hence shalt thou prove my might, and curse the hour Thou stood’st a rival of imperial power; And hence, to all our hosts it shall be known, That kings are subject to the gods alone.”