Him when apart the Cloud-compeller saw Girt with the arms of Peleus’ godlike son, He shook his head, and inly thus he mus’d: “Ah hapless! little deem’st thou of thy fate, Though now so nigh! Thou of the prime of men, The dread of all, hast donn’d th’ immortal arms, Whose comrade, brave and good, thy hand hath slain; And sham’d him, stripping from his head and breast Helmet and cuirass; yet thy latest hours Will I with glory crown; since ne’er from thee, Return’d from battle, shall Andromache Receive the spoils of Peleus’ godlike son.” He said, and nodded with his shadowy brows; Then with the armour, fitted to his form By Jove himself, was Hector girt by Mars The fierce and terrible; with vig’rous strength His limbs were strung, as ’mid his brave allies He sprang, loud-shouting; glitt’ring in his arms, To all he seem’d Achilles’ godlike self. To each and all in cheering tones he spoke, Mesthles and Glaucus and Thersilochus, Asteropaeus and Hippothous, Medon, Deisenor, Phoreys, Chromius, And Ennomus the seer: to all of these His winged words he cheeringly address’d: “Hear me, ye countless tribes, that dwelling round Assist our cause! You from your sev’ral homes Not for display of numbers have I call’d, But that with willing hearts ye should defend Our wives and infants from the warlike Greeks: For this I drain my people’s stores, for food And gifts for you, exalting your estate; Then, who will boldly onward, he may fall, Or safe escape, such is the chance of war; But who within our valiant Trojans’ ranks Shall but the body of Patroclus bring, Despite the might of Ajax; half the spoils To him I give, the other half myself Retaining; and his praise shall equal mine.” He said; and onward, with uplifted spears, They march’d upon the Greeks; high rose their hopes From Ajax Telamon to snatch the dead; Vain hopes, which cost them many a life! Then thus To valiant Menelaus Ajax spoke; “O Heav’n-born Menelaus, noble friend, For safe return I dare no longer hope: Not for Patroclus’ corpse so much I fear, Which soon will glut the dogs and birds of Troy, As for my life and thine I tremble now: For, like a war-cloud, Hector’s might I see O’ershadowing all around; now is our doom Apparent; but do thou for succour call On all the chiefs, if haply they may hear.” Thus Ajax spoke: obedient to his word, On all the chiefs Atrides call’d aloud: “O friends, the chiefs and councillors of Greece, All ye that banquet at the gen’ral cost With Atreus’ sons, and o’er your sev’ral states Dominion hold; whose honour is of Jove; ’Twere hard to call by name each single man, So fierce the combat rages; but let each And all their aid afford, and deem, it shame Patroclus’ corpse should glut the dogs of Troy.”