Then, when all things were set in readiness About the pyre, all, footmen, charioteers, Compassed that woeful bale, clashing their arms, While, from the viewless heights Olympian, Zeus Rained down ambrosia on dead Aeacus' son. For honour to the Goddess, Nereus' child, He sent to Aeolus Hermes, bidding him Summon the sacred might of his swift winds, For that the corpse of Aeacus' son must now Be burned. With speed he went, and Aeolus Refused not: the tempestuous North in haste He summoned, and the wild blast of the West; And to Troy sped they on their whirlwind wings. Fast in mad onrush, fast across the deep They darted; roared beneath them as they flew The sea, the land; above crashed thunder-voiced Clouds headlong hurtling through the firmament. Then by decree of Zeus down on the pyre Of slain Achilles, like a charging host Swooped they; upleapt the Fire-god's madding breath: Uprose a long wail from the Myrmidons. Then, though with whirlwind rushes toiled the winds, All day, all night, they needs must fan the flames Ere that death-pyre burned out. Up to the heavens Vast-volumed rolled the smoke. The huge tree-trunks Groaned, writhing, bursting, in the heat, and dropped The dark-grey ash all round. So when the winds Had tirelessly fulfilled their mighty task, Back to their cave they rode cloud-charioted. Then, when the fire had last of all consumed That hero-king, when all the steeds, the men Slain round the pyre had first been ravined up, With all the costly offerings laid around The mighty dead by Achaia's weeping sons, The glowing embers did the Myrmidons quench With wine. Then clear to be discerned were seen His bones; for nowise like the rest were they, But like an ancient Giant's; none beside With these were blent; for bulls and steeds, and sons Of Troy, with all that mingled hecatomb, Lay in a wide ring round his corse, and he Amidst them, flame-devoured, lay there alone. So his companions groaning gathered up His bones, and in a silver casket laid Massy and deep, and banded and bestarred With flashing gold; and Nereus' daughters shed Ambrosia over them, and precious nards For honour to Achilles: fat of kine And amber honey poured they over all. A golden vase his mother gave, the gift In old time of the Wine-god, glorious work Of the craft-master Fire-god, in the which They laid the casket that enclosed the bones Of mighty-souled Achilles. All around The Argives heaped a barrow, a giant sign, Upon a foreland's uttermost end, beside The Hellespont's deep waters, wailing loud Farewells unto the Myrmidons' hero-king.