Thus saying, from her son she turn’d away, And turning, to her sister Nereids spoke: “Back to the spacious bosom of the deep Retire ye now; and to my father’s house, The aged Ocean God, your tidings bear; While I to high Olympus speed, to crave At Vulcan’s hand, the skill’d artificer, A boon of dazzling armour for my son.” She said; and they beneath the ocean wave Descended, while to high Olympus sped The silver-footed Goddess, thence in hope To bear the dazzling armour to her son. She to Olympus sped; the Greeks meanwhile Before the warrior-slayer Hector fled With wild, tumultuous uproar, till they reach’d Their vessels and the shore of Hellespont. Nor had the well-greav’d Greeks Achilles’ friend, Patroclus, from amid the fray withdrawn; For close upon him follow’d horse and man, And Hector, son of Priam, fierce as flame; Thrice noble Hector, seizing from behind, Sought by the feet to drag away the dead, Cheering his friends; thrice, clad in warlike might, The two Ajaces drove him from his prey. Yet, fearless in his strength, now rushing on He dash’d amid the fray; now, shouting loud, Stood firm; but backward not a step retir’d. As from a carcase herdsmen strive in vain To scare a tawny lion, hunger-pinch’d; E’en so th’ Ajaces, mail-clad warriors, fail’d The son of Priam from the corpse to scare. And now the body had he borne away, With endless fame; but from Olympus’ height Came storm-swift Iris down to Peleus’ son, And bade him don his arms; by Juno sent, Unknown to Jove, and to th’ Immortals all. She stood beside him, and address’d him thus: “Up, son of Peleus! up, thou prince of men! Haste to Patroclus’ rescue; whom, around, Before the ships, is wag’d a fearful war, With mutual slaughter; these the dead defending, And those to Ilium’s breezy heights intent To bear the body; noble Hector chief, Who longs to sever from the tender neck, And fix upon the spikes, thy comrade’s head. Up then! delay no longer; deem it shame Patroclus’ corpse should glut the dogs of Troy, Dishon’ring thee, if aught dishonour him.” Whom answer’d thus Achilles, swift of foot: “Say, heav’nly Iris, of th’ immortal Gods Who bade thee seek me, and this message bring?” To whom swift Iris thus: “To thee I come By Juno sent, th’ imperial wife of Jove; Unknown to Saturn’s son, and all the Gods Who on Olympus’ snowy summit dwell.” To whom again Achilles, swift of foot: “How in the battle toil can I engage? My arms are with the Trojans; and to boot My mother warn’d me not to arm for fight, Till I again should see her; for she hop’d To bring me heav’nly arms by Vulcan wrought: Nor know I well whose armour I could wear, Save the broad shield of Ajax Telamon And he, methinks, amid the foremost ranks Ev’n now is fighting o’er Patroclus’ corpse.”