A King's Caprice To War Has Led
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Achilles to Atrides on the King's personal war:
What cause have I to war at thy decree? The distant Trojans never injured me; Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed; Far hence removed, the hoarse-resounding main, Whose frutful soil luxuriant harvests grace, Rich in her fruits, and in her martial race. Hither we sail'd, a voluntary throng, To avenge a private, not a public wrong. What else to Troy the assembled nations draws, But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother's cause?