To Phthia's realms no hostile troops they led:
Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed;
Far hence removed, the hoarse-resounding main,

    This prize camw through peaceful resolve


And walls of rocks, secure my native reign,
Whose fruitful 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:
    They only took of the fruit offered through proper harvest and market/ no public battles were fought but private a few.

What else to Troy the assembled nations draws,
But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother's cause?
Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve; Disgraced and injured by the man we serve?
    We were asked in to help, is this how we care rewarded.  Peacekeeping and policering.  Now they turn on us for helping lawfully.