She, first, before them placed a table bright, 755
With feet coerulean; thirst-provoking sauce
She brought them also in a brazen tray,
Garlic[20] and honey new, and sacred meal. 
Beside them, next, she placed a noble cup
Of labor exquisite, which from his home 760
The ancient King had brought with golden studs
Embellish’d; it presented to the grasp
Four ears; two golden turtles, perch’d on each,
Seem’d feeding, and two turtles[21] form’d the base. 
That cup once fill’d, all others must have toil’d 765
To move it from the board, but it was light
In Nestor’s hand; he lifted it with ease.[22]
The graceful virgin in that cup a draught
Mix’d for them, Pramnian wine and savory cheese
Of goat’s milk, grated with a brazen rasp, 770
Then sprinkled all with meal.  The draught prepared,
She gave it to their hand; they, drinking, slaked
Their fiery thirst, and with each other sat
Conversing friendly, when the godlike youth
By brave Achilles sent, stood at the door. 775

    Him seeing, Nestor from his splendid couch

Arose, and by the hand leading him in,
Entreated him to sit, but that request
Patroclus, on his part refusing, said,

    Oh venerable King! no seat is here 780

For me, nor may thy courtesy prevail. 
He is irascible, and to be fear’d
Who bade me ask what Chieftain thou hast brought
From battle, wounded; but untold I learn;
I see Machaon, and shall now report 785
As I have seen; oh ancient King revered! 
Thou know’st Achilles fiery, and propense
Blame to impute even where blame is none. 

    To whom the brave Gerenian thus replied. 

Why feels Achilles for the wounded Greeks 790
Such deep concern?  He little knows the height
To which our sorrows swell.  Our noblest lie
By spear or arrow wounded in the fleet. 
Diomede, warlike son of Tydeus, bleeds,
Gall’d by a shaft; Ulysses, glorious Chief, 795
And Agamemnon[23] suffer by the spear;
Eurypylus is shot into the thigh,
And here lies still another newly brought
By me from fight, pierced also by a shaft. 
What then?  How strong soe’er to give them aid, 800
Achilles feels no pity of the Greeks. 
Waits he till every vessel on the shore
Fired, in despite of the whole Argive host,
Be sunk in its own ashes, and ourselves
All perish, heaps on heaps?  For in my limbs 805
No longer lives the agility of my youth. 
Oh, for the vigor of those days again,
When Elis, for her cattle which we took,
Strove with us and Itymoneus I slew,
Brave offspring of Hypirochus; he dwelt 810
In Elis, and while I the pledges drove,
Stood for his herd, but fell among the first