Not any dart they touch but takes, from whomsoever thrown, Valiant or coward; what he wants Jove adds, not any one Wants his direction to strike sure; nor ours to miss as sure. But come, let us be sure of this, to put the best in ure That lies in us; which two-fold is, both to fetch off our friend, And so to fetch him off as we may likeliest contend To fetch ourselves off; that our friends surviving may have right In joy of our secure retreat, as he that fell in fight, Being kept as sure from further wrong. Of which perhaps they doubt, And looking this way, grieve for us, not able to work out Our pass from this man-slaughterer, great Hector, and his hands That are too hot for men to touch, but that these thirsty sands Before our fleet will be enforc’d to drink our headlong death. Which to prevent by all fit means, I would the parted breath Of good Patroclus, to his friend, with speed imparted were, By some he loves; for, I believe, no heavy messenger Hath yet inform’d him. But alas! I see no man to send, Both men and horse are hid in mists that ev’ry way descend. O father Jupiter, do thou the sons of Greece release Of this felt darkness; grace this day with fit transparences; And give the eyes thou giv’st, their use; destroy us in the light, And work thy will with us, since needs thou wilt against us fight.” This spake he weeping, and his tears Saturnius pity show’d, Dispers’d the darkness instantly, and drew away the cloud From whence it fell; the sun shin’d out, and all the host appear’d; And then spake Ajax, whose heard pray’r his spirits highly cheer’d: “Brave Menelaus, look about; and if thou canst descry Nestor’s Antilochus alive, incite him instantly To tell Achilles that his friend, most dear to him, is dead.” He said, nor Menelaus stuck at any thing he said, As loth to do it, but he went. As from a grazier’s stall A lion goes, when overlaid with men, dogs, darts, and all, Not eas’ly losing a fat ox, but strong watch all night held, His teeth yet wat’ring, oft he comes, and is as oft repell’d, The adverse darts so thick are pour’d before his brow-hid eyes, And burning firebrands which, for all his great heart’s heat, he flies, And, grumbling, goes his way betimes; so from Patroclus went Atrides, much against his mind, his doubts being vehement Lest, he gone from his guard, the rest would leave for very fear The person to the spoil of Greece. And yet his guardians were Th’ Ajaces and Meriones; whom much his care did press, And thus exhort: “Ajaces both, and you Meriones, Now let some true friend call to mind the gentle and sweet nature Of poor Patroclus; let him think, how kind to ev’ry creature His heart was living, though now dead.” Thus urg’d the fair-hair’d king, And parted, casting round his eye. As when upon her wing An eagle is, whom men affirm to have the sharpest sight Of all air’s region of fowls, and, though of mighty height, Sees yet within her leavy form of humble shrubs, close laid,