Old man Chryses had naught left him for making his moan.This did his mate dispoil of a fond affectionate mistressAnd of a prize not his plunderèd Aeacides,He that aye chaunted his dirge of distress to the lyre Pelethronian,Lyre of the stiff taut string, stiffer the string of himself.Ilias, noble poem, was gotten and born of such direfulIre, of that Sacred Song such was original cause.Matter of different kind was the wander of crafty Ulysses: