From anger such as harbor finds in thine,
  Scorning all limits! whom, of men unborn,
  Hereafter wilt thou save, from whom avert
  Disgrace, if not from the Achaians now? 40
  Ah ruthless! neither Peleus thee begat,
  Nor Thetis bore, but rugged rocks sublime,
  And roaring billows blue gave birth to thee,
  Who bear’st a mind that knows not to relent,
  But, if some prophecy alarm thy fears, 45
  If from thy Goddess-mother thou have aught
  Received, and with authority of Jove,
  Me send at least, me quickly, and with me
  The Myrmidons.  A dawn of cheerful hope
  Shall thence, it may be, on the Greeks arise. 50
  Grant me thine armor also, that the foe
  Thyself supposing present, may abstain
  From battle, and the weary Greeks enjoy
  Short respite; it is all that war allows. 
  We, fresh and vigorous, by our shouts alone 55
  May easily repulse an army spent
  With labor from the camp, and from the fleet,
    Such suit he made, alas! all unforewarn’d
  That his own death should be the bitter fruit,
  And thus Achilles, sorrowful, replied. 60
    Patroclus, noble friend! what hast thou spoken? 
  Me neither prophesy that I have heard
  Holds in suspense, nor aught that I have learn’d
  From Thetis with authority of Jove! 
  Hence springs, and hence alone, my grief of heart; 65
  If one, in nought superior to myself
  Save in his office only, should by force
  Amerce me of my well-earn’d recompense—­
  How then?  There lies the grief that stings my soul. 
  The virgin chosen for me by the sons 70
  Of Greece, my just reward, by my own spear
  Obtain’d when I Eetion’s city took,
  Her, Agamemnon, leader of the host
  From my possession wrung, as I had been
  Some alien wretch, unhonor’d and unknown. 75
  But let it pass; anger is not a flame
  To feed for ever; I affirm’d, indeed,
  Mine inextinguishable till the shout
  Of battle should invade my proper barks;
  But thou put on my glorious arms, lead forth 80
  My valiant Myrmidons, since such a cloud,
  So dark, of dire hostility surrounds
  The fleet, and the Achaians, by the waves
  Hemm’d in, are prison’d now in narrow space. 
  Because the Trojans meet not in the field 85
  My dazzling helmet, therefore bolder grown
  All Ilium comes abroad; but had I found
  Kindness at royal Agamemnon’s hands,
  Soon had they fled, and with their bodies chok’d
  The streams, from whom ourselves now suffer siege 90
  For in the hands of Diomede his spear
  No longer rages rescuing from death
  The afflicted Danai, nor hear I more
  The voice of Agamemnon issuing harsh