In battle, we will give them at their fleet Sharp onset, and if Peleus’ noble son375 Have risen indeed to conflict for the ships, The worse for him. I shall not for his sake Avoid the deep-toned battle, but will firm Oppose his utmost. Either he shall gain Or I, great glory. Mars his favors deals380 Impartial, and the slayer oft is slain. So counsell’d Hector, whom with shouts of praise The Trojans answer’d:—fools, and by the power Of Pallas of all sober thought bereft! For all applauded Hector, who had given385 Advice pernicious, and Polydamas, Whose counsel was discreet and wholesome none. So then they took repast. But all night long The Grecians o’er Patroclus wept aloud, While, standing in the midst, Pelides led390 The lamentation, heaving many a groan, And on the bosom of his breathless friend Imposing, sad, his homicidal hands. As the grim lion, from whose gloomy lair Among thick trees the hunter hath his whelps395 Purloin’d, too late returning mourns his loss, Then, up and down, the length of many a vale Courses, exploring fierce the robber’s foot, Incensed as he, and with a sigh deep-drawn Thus to his Myrmidons Achilles spake.400 How vain, alas! my word spoken that day At random, when to soothe the hero’s fears Menœtius, then our guest, I promised him His noble son at Opoeis again, Living and laden with the spoils of Troy!405 But Jove performs not all the thoughts of man, For we were both destined to tinge the soil Of Ilium with our blood, nor I shall see, Myself, my father in his mansion more Or Thetis, but must find my burial here.410 Yet, my Patroclus! since the earth expects Me next, I will not thy funereal rites Finish, till I shall bring both head and arms Of that bold Chief who slew thee, to my tent. I also will smite off, before thy pile,415 The heads of twelve illustrious sons of Troy, Resentful of thy death. Meantime, among My lofty galleys thou shalt lie, with tears Mourn’d day and night by Trojan captives fair And Dardan compassing thy bier around,420 Whom we, at price of labor hard, ourselves With massy spears toiling in battle took From many an opulent city, now no more. So saying, he bade his train surround with fire A tripod huge, that they might quickly cleanse425 Patroclus from all stain of clotted gore. They on the blazing hearth a tripod placed Capacious, fill’d with water its wide womb, And thrust dry wood beneath, till, fierce, the flames Embraced it round, and warm’d the flood within.430 Soon as the water in the singing brass Simmer’d, they bathed him, and with limpid oil Anointed; filling, next, his ruddy wounds With unguent mellow’d by nine circling years, They stretch’d him on his bed, then cover’d him435 From head to feet with linen texture light, And with a wide unsullied mantle, last.[7] All night the Myrmidons around the swift Achilles stood, deploring loud his friend, And Jove his spouse and sister thus bespake.440 So then, Imperial Juno! not in vain Thou hast the swift Achilles sought to rouse