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they, then, were fighting, like a blazing fire; but swift-footed Antilochus came as a messenger to Achilles. Him he found in front of his lofty-prowed ships, revolving in his mind those things which had already been accomplished; and then groaning, he communed with his own mind:

"Ah me! why are the long-haired Achæans driven back in confusion to the ships, routed through the plain? [I fear] lest the gods have accomplished evil sorrows to my soul, as my mother once informed me, and told me that the bravest of the Myrmidons, I being yet alive, would leave the light of the sun, by the hands of the Trojans. Too surely now the valiant son of Menœtius is dead—obstinate one! certainly I desired him, having repelled the hostile fire, to return to the ships, nor to fight bravely with Hector."

While he was revolving these things in his mind and in his soul, in the mean time the son of illustrious Nestor drew near, shedding warm tears, and delivered his sad message:

"Alas! O son of warlike Peleus, surely thou wilt hear a very grievous message, which—would that it had not taken place. Patroclus lies low; and around his unarmed corpse they are now fighting, while crest-tossing Hector possesses his armor."

Thus he spoke; but him a black cloud of grief overshadowed, and taking the burnt ashes with both hands, he Rh