Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/429



Now from the finished games the Grecian band

Seek their black ships, and clear the crowded strand:

All stretched at ease the genial banquet share,

And pleasing slumbers quiet all their care.

Not so Achilles: he, to grief resigned,

His friend's dear image present to his mind,

Takes his sad couch, more unobserved to weep,

Nor tastes the gifts of all-composing sleep;

Restless he rolled around his weary bed,

And all his soul on his Patroclus fed:

The form so pleasing, and the heart so kind,

That youthful vigour, and that manly mind,

What toils they shared, what martial works they wrought,

What seas they measured, and what fields they fought;

All passed before him in remembrance dear,

Thought follows thought, and tear succeeds to tear.

And now supine, now prone, the hero lay,

Now shifts his side, impatient for the day;

Then starting up, disconsolate he goes

Wide on the lonely beach to vent his woes,

There as the solitary mourner raves,