Collected Works

So that you may surpass iron in hardness, and adamant, and yourself.
You will not say to yourself: "I should have followed Phyllis."
Often I have a thirst for poisons: often it pleases me
To perish, pierced by the sword in a bloody death.
It also pleases me to have entangled my neck, which
Had offered itself to be bound by faithless arms, in nooses.
I stand ready to balance my tender shame with a timely death.
There is little delay in the chosen act of death.
You will be inscribed as an odious cause on my tomb:
You will be known by this, or a similar poem.
"Demophoon gave Phyllis to death: a guest to a lover.
He provided the cause of death: she provided the hand."

Briseis to Achilles.

The letter you read comes from the kidnapped Briseis:
Hardly well-written by a barbarian Greek hand.
Whatever stains you see, tears have made them.
Yet these tears have the weight of a voice.
If it is permitted for me to complain a little about you, my master and husband:
I will complain a little about my master, and husband.
It is not your fault that I was quickly handed over to the king when he demanded it:
Though this is also your fault.
For as soon as Eurybates and Talthybius called for me:
I was given to Eurybates, and was a companion to Talthybius.
Each, casting glances at the other,
Asked silently where our love was.
I could have been delayed: a delay of punishment would have been welcome.
Woe is me, I gave no kisses as I left.
But I gave tears without end: and tore my hair.
Wretched, I seemed to myself to be kidnapped a second time.
Often I wished to return, having deceived my guard:
But there was an enemy who would catch me, timid as I was.
I feared that if I went forward, I would be captured by night:
About to go to the bride of Priam, whoever she might be.
But I was given: because I had to be given. I have been absent for so many nights:
And I am not reclaimed: you hesitate: and your anger is slow.
Menoetiades Patroclus himself said in my ear when I was being handed over:
"Why do you weep? You will be here in a short time."
It is not enough that you have not reclaimed me: you fight so that I am not returned, Achilles.
Go now, and have the name of a desiring lover.
The sons of Telamon and Amyntor came to you:
One closer in degree of blood: the other a companion.
And the son of Laertes Odysseus: through whom I might have returned:
They added grand gifts to their gentle pleas: