Who knows if, advising him, thou mayest, with the gods’ assistance, arouse his mind? For the admonition of a friend is good. But if within his mind he avoid some prophecy, and his venerable mother has told him anything from Jove, let him at least send thee forth; and with thee let the other forces of the Myrmidons follow, if indeed thou mayest be some aid to the Greeks. Let him likewise give his beautiful armour to thee, to be borne into battle, if perchance the Trojans, assimilating thee to him, may abstain from the conflict, and the warlike sons of the Greeks, already afflicted, may respire; and there be a little respite from fighting. 388 But you, [who are] fresh, will, with fighting, easily drive back men wearied, towards the city, from the ships and tents.” Footnote 384: (return) Cf iv. 540, for the distinction between βεϑλημένοι and οὐτάμενοι. Footnote 385: (return) _I. e._ the reputed sons. Footnote 386: (return) See Schol. Etym. M. s.v., and Alberti on Hesych. t, ii. p. 1247 Footnote 387: (return) Properly, the fence or barrier of the enclosure. Footnote 388: (return) There are several different interpretations for this line: 1. Schneider explains it: “They have but short time to respire; for if not at once assisted, they will be destroyed.” 2. “Short will be the cessation from war.” 3. “A cessation, or breathing-time, from war, although short, will be agreeable.” 4. “Supply ‘_may be_’, and translate, ‘and that there _may be_ a short breathing-time from the battle;’ although this last involves some tautology with the preceding line.”—Ed. Dubl. Thus he spake, and he aroused the spirit within his breast; and he hastened to run to the ships to Achilles, the grandson of Æacus. But when now Patroclus, running, arrived at the ships of godlike Ulysses, where were their forum and seat of justice, and there the altars of their gods also were erected, there Eurypylus, the noble son of Evæmon, wounded with an arrow in the thigh, limping from the battle, met him. Down his back ran the copious sweat from his shoulders and head, and from the grievous wound oozed the black blood; nevertheless his mind was firm. Seeing him, the gallant son of Menœtius pitied him, and, grieving, spoke winged words: “Alas! unhappy men, leaders and rulers over the Greeks, are ye then thus destined, far away from your friends and native land, to satiate the swift dogs at Troy with your white fat? But come, tell me this, O Jove-nurtured hero, Eurypylus, will the Greeks still at all sustain mighty Hector, or will they now be destroyed, subdued by his spear?”