“Oh, woe is me! for should I now the spoils Abandon, and Patroclus, who for me And in my cause lies slain, of any Greek Who saw me, I might well incur the blame: And yet if here alone I dare to fight With Hector and his Trojans, much I fear, Singly, to be by numbers overwhelm’d; For Hector all the Trojans hither brings. But wherefore entertain such thoughts, my soul? Who strives, against the will divine, with one Belov’d of Heav’n, a bitter doom must meet. Then none may blame me, though I should retreat From Hector, who with Heav’n’s assistance wars. Yet could I hear brave Ajax’ battle cry, We two, returning, would the encounter dare, E’en against Heav’n, if so for Peleus’ son We might regain, and bear away the dead: Some solace of our loss might then be ours.” While in his mind and spirit thus he mus’d, By Hector led, the Trojan ranks advanc’d: Backward he mov’d, abandoning the dead; But turning oft, as when by men and dogs A bearded lion from the fold is driv’n With shouts and spears; yet grieves his mighty heart, And with reluctant step he quits the yard: So from Patroclus Menelaus mov’d; Yet when he reach’d his comrades’ ranks, he turn’d, And look’d around, if haply he might find The mighty Ajax, son of Telamon. Him on the battle’s farthest left he spied, Cheering his friends and urging to the fight, For sorely Phoebus had their courage tried; And hast’ning to his side, address’d him thus: “Ajax, haste hither; to the rescue come Of slain Patroclus; if perchance we two May to Achilles, Peleus’ son, restore His body: his naked body, for his arms Are prize to Hector of the glancing helm.” He said, and Ajax’ spirit within him stirr’d; Forward he sprang, and with him Atreus’ son. Hector was dragging now Patroclus’ corpse, Stripped of its glitt’ring armour, and intent The head to sever with his sword, and give The mangled carcase to the dogs of Troy: But Ajax, with his tow’r-like shield, approach’d; Then Hector to his comrades’ ranks withdrew, Rush’d to his car, and bade the Trojans bear The glitt’ring arms, his glorious prize, to Troy: While Ajax with his mighty shield o’erspread Menoetius’ son; and stood, as for his cubs A lion stands, whom hunters, unaware, Have with his offspring met amid the woods. Proud in his strength he stands; and down are drawn, Cov’ring his eyes, the wrinkles of his brow: So o’er Patroclus mighty Ajax stood, And by his side, his heart with grief oppress’d, The warlike Menelaus, Atreus’ son.