“'But you, Achilles,

there's not a man in the world most blest than you—

there never has been, never will be one.

Time was, when you were alive, we Argive

honored you as a god, and now down here, I see,

you lord it over the dead in all your power.

So grieve no more at dying, great Achilles.'

I reassured the ghost, but he broke out, protesting,

'No winning words about death to me, shining Odysseus!

By god, I'd rather slave on earth for another man—

some dirt-poor tenant farmer who scrapes to keep alive—

than rule down here over all the breathless dead.'”