Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/406



humbled In the dust, the pensive train

Through the sad city mourned her hero slain.

The body soiled with dust, and black with gore,

Lies on broad Hellespont's resounding shore:

The Grecians seek their ships, and clear the strand,

All, but the martial Myrmidonian band:

These yet assembled great Achilles holds,

And the stern purpose of his mind unfolds:

"Not yet, my brave companions of the war,

Release your smoking coursers from the car;

But with his chariot each in order led,

Perform due honours to Patroclus dead;

Ere yet from rest or food we seek relief,

Some rites remain, to glut our rage of grief."

The troops obeyed; and thrice in order led,

Achilles first, their coursers round the dead,

And thrice their sorrows and laments renew;

Tears bathe their arms, and tears the sands bedew.