And feed thy fury.’ These high words exceeding often were The threats that, in your mutinous troops, ye us’d to me for wrath To be detain’d so from the field. Now then, your spleens may bathe In sweat of those great works ye wish’d; now, he that can employ A gen’rous heart, go fight, and fright these bragging sons of Troy.” This set their minds and strengths on fire, the speech enforcing well, Being us’d in time; but, being their king’s, it much more did impell, And closer rush’d in all the troops. And as, for buildings high, The mason lays his stones more thick, against th’ extremity Of wind and weather, and ev’n then, if any storm arise, He thickens them the more for that, the present act so plies His honest mind to make sure work; so, for the high estate This work was brought to, these men’s minds, according to the rate, Were rais’d, and all their bodies join’d; but their well-spoken king, With his so timely-thought-on speech, more sharp made valour’s sting, And thicken’d so their targets boss’d, so all their helmets then, That shields propp’d shields, helms helmets knock’d, and men encourag’d men. Patroclus and Automedon did arm before them all, Two bodies with one mind inform’d; and then the General Betook him to his private tent, where from a coffer wrought Most rich and curiously, and giv’n by Thetis to be brought In his own ship, top-fill’d with vests, warm robes to check cold wind, And tapestries all gold’n-fring’d, and curl’d with thrumbs behind, He took a most unvalu’d bowl, in which none drank but he; Nor he but to the Deities, nor any Deity But Jove himself was serv’d with that; and that he first did cleanse With sulphur, then with fluences of sweetest water rense; Then wash’d his hands, and drew himself a mighty bowl of wine, Which (standing midst the place enclos’d for services divine, And looking up to heav’n and Jove, who saw him well) he pour’d Upon the place of sacrifice, and humbly thus implor’d: “Great Dodonæus, president of cold Dodone’s tow’rs, Divine Pelasgicus, that dwellest far hence; about whose bow’rs Th’ austere prophetic Selli dwell, that still sleep on the ground, Go bare, and never cleanse their feet; as I before have found Grace to my vows, and hurt to Greece, so now my pray’rs intend. I still stay in the gather’d fleet, but have dismiss’d my friend, Amongst my many Myrmidons, to danger of the dart; O grant his valour my renown, arm with my mind his heart! That Hector’s self may know my friend can work in single war, And not then only show his hands, so hot and singular, When my kind presence seconds him. But, fight he ne’er so well, No further let him trust his fight, but, when he shall repell Clamour and danger from our fleet, vouchsafe a safe retreat To him and all his companies, with fames and arms complete.” He pray’d, and heav’n’s great Counsellor gave satisfying ear To one part of his orisons, but left the other there; He let him free the fleet of foes, but safe retreat denied.