He, deeply groaning—“To this cureless grief.

Not even the Thunderer's favour brings relief.

Patroclus–Ah!–say, goddess, can I boast

A pleasure now? revenge itself is lost;

Patroclus, loved of all my martial train,

Beyond mankind, beyond myself, is slain!

‘Tis not in fate the alternate now to give;

Patroclus dead Achilles hates to live.

Let me revenge it on proud Hector’s heart,

Let his last spirit smoke upon my dart;

On these conditions will I breathe; till then,

I blush to walk among the race of men.”

A flood of tears at this the goddess shed :

“Ah then, I see thee dying, see thee dead!

Whn Hector falls, thou diest.”—“Let Hector die,

And let me fall! (Achilles made reply)

Far lies Patroclus from his native plain!

He fell, and, falling, wish’d my aid in vain.

Ah then, since from this miserable day

I cast all hope of my return away;

Since unrevenged, a hundred ghosts demand

The fate of Hector from Achilles’ hand;

Since here, for brutal courage far renown’d,

I live an idle burden to the ground,

(Others in council famed for nobler skill,

More useful to preserve, than I to kill)

Let me–But oh! ye gracious powers above!