I last must undergo the ground, I’ll keep no fun’ral laws, O my Patroclus, for thy corse, before I hither bring The arms of Hector and his head to thee for offering. Twelve youths, the most renown’d of Troy, I’ll sacrifice beside, Before thy heap of funeral, to thee unpacified. In mean time, by our crooked sterns lie, drawing tears from me, And round about thy honour’d corse, these dames of Dardanie, And Ilion, with the ample breasts (whom our long spears and pow’rs And labours purchas’d from the rich and by-us-ruin’d tow’rs, And cities strong and populous with divers-languag’d men) Shall kneel, and neither day nor night be licens’d to abstain From solemn watches, their toil’d eyes held ope with endless tears.” This passion past, he gave command to his near soldiers To put a tripod to the fire, to cleanse the fester’d gore From off the person. They obey’d, and presently did pour Fresh water in it, kindled wood, and with an instant flame The belly of the tripod girt, till fire’s hot quality came Up to the water. Then they wash’d, and fill’d the mortal wound With wealthy oil of nine years old; then wrapp’d the body round In largeness of a fine white sheet, and put it then in bed; When all watch’d all night with their lord, and spent sighs on the dead. Then Jove ask’d Juno: “If at length she had sufficed her spleen, Achilles being won to arms? Or if she had not been The natural mother of the Greeks, she did so still prefer Their quarrel?” She, incens’d, ask’d: “Why he still was taunting her, For doing good to those she lov’d? since man to man might show Kind offices, though thrall to death, and though they did not know Half such deep counsels as disclos’d beneath her far-seeing state, She, reigning queen of Goddesses, and being in generate Of one stock with himself, besides the state of being his wife And must her wrath, and ill to Troy, continue such a strife From time to time ’twixt him and her?” This private speech they had. And now the Silver-footed Queen had her ascension made To that incorruptible house, that starry golden court Of fi’ry Vulcan, beautiful amongst th’ immortal sort, Which yet the lame God built himself. She found him in a sweat About his bellows, and in haste had twenty tripods beat. To set for stools about the sides of his well-builded hall, To whose feet little wheels of gold he put, to go withal, And enter his rich dining room, alone, their motion free, And back again go out alone, miraculous to see. And thus much he had done of them, yet handles were to add, For which he now was making studs. And while their fashion had Employment of his skilful hand, bright Thetis was come near; Whom first fair well-hair’d Charis saw, that was the nuptial fere Of famous Vulcan, who the hand of Thetis took, and said: “Why, fair-train’d, lov’d, and honour’d dame, are we thus visited By your kind presence? You, I think, were never here before. Come near, that I may banquet you, and make you visit more.”