"No wish Have I to live or to concern myself In men's affairs, save this: that Hector first, Pierced by my spear, shall yield his life, and pay The debt of vengeance for Patroclus slain." BRYANT, _Iliad_, Book XVIII. The weeping mother, wishing to save her son, told him of the fate which had decreed that his own death should soon follow that of Hector. "Ah then, I see thee dying, see thee dead! When Hector falls, thou diest." POPE, _Iliad_, Book XVIII. But the warning of Thetis was in vain. "Let my death come," said he, "when the gods will it. I shall have revenge on Hector, by whose hand my friend has been slain." Seeing that she could not induce him to alter his purpose, his mother reminded him that his bright armor had been seized by the Trojans. She bade him therefore not go to battle until she should bring him new armor made by Vulcan, which she promised to do early next morning. Then she commanded the other nymphs to return to their ocean home, and she herself ascended to Olympus, to ask the god of smiths to forge glittering armor for her son. Meantime the fight over the body of Patroclus still continued. The Greeks were now driven to their ships, and in danger of being totally defeated. Three times Hector seized the body by the feet, to drag it away, and three times the mighty Ajaxes forced him back. Still again he seized it, and this time he would have borne it away, had not Juno sent Iris down to Achilles to bid him hasten to the relief of his friends. "But how," he asked, "can I go forth to the battle, since the enemy have my arms?" Iris answered: "Go thou to the trench, and show thyself To them of Troy, that, haply smit with fear, They may desist from battle." BRYANT, _Iliad_, Book XVIII. Then the goddess Minerva spread a golden cloud around the head of Achilles, and she kindled in it a bright flame that streamed upward to the sky. And the hero went out beyond the wall, and stood beside the trench, and he shouted in a voice loud as a trumpet sound,--a shout that carried dismay into the ranks of the Trojans. The hearts of all who heard that brazen voice Were troubled, and their steeds with flowing manes Turned backward with the chariots,--such the dread Of coming slaughter. . . . . . . . . Thrice o'er the trench Achilles shouted; thrice The men of Troy and their renowned allies Fell into wild disorder. Then there died, Entangled midst the chariots, and transfixed By their own spears, twelve of their bravest chiefs. The Greeks bore off Patroclus from the field With eager haste, and placed him on a bier, And there the friends that loved him gathered round Lamenting. BRYANT, _Iliad_, Book XVIII