Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/358

356 That rites divine should ratify the band,

And make me empress in his native land. Accept these grateful tears! for thee they flow, For thee, that ever felt another's woe!" Her sister captives echoed groan for groan, Nor mourned Patroclus' fortunes, but their own. The leaders pressed the chief on every side; Unmoved he heard them, and with sighs denied: "If yet Achilles have a friend, whose care Is bent to please him, this request forbear: Till yonder sun descend, ah, let me pay To grief and anguish one abstemious day." He spoke, and from the warriors turned his face: Yet still the brother-kings of Atreus' race, Nestor, Idomeneus, Ulysses sage, And Phoenix, strive to calm his grief and rage: His rage they calm not, nor his grief control: He groans, he raves, he sorrows from his soul. "Thou too, Patroclus!" thus his heart he vents, "Hast spread the inviting banquet in our tents; Thy sweet society, thy winning care, Oft stayed Achilles, rushing to the war. But now, alas 1 to death's cold arms resigned, What banquet but revenge can glad my mind? What greater sorrow could afflict my breast, What more, if hoary Peleus were deceased? Who now, perhaps, in Phthia dreads to hear His son's sad fate, and drops a tender tear. What more, should Neoptolemus the brave, My only offspring, sink into the grave? If yet that offspring lives: I distant far, Of all neglectful, wage a hateful war. I could not this, this cruel stroke attend; Fate claimed Achilles, but might spare his friend. I hoped Patroclus might survive to rear My tender orphan with a parent's care, From Scyros' isle conduct him o'er the main, And glad his eyes with his paternal reign, The lofty palace and the large domain. For Peleus breathes no more the vital air; Or drags a wretched life of age and care, But till the news of my sad fate invades His hastening soul, and sinks him to the shades." Sighing he said: his grief the heroes joined, Each stole a tear, for what he left behind. Their mingled grief the sire of heaven surveyed, And thus, with pity, to his blue-eyed Maid: "Is then Achilles now no more thy care,