Mars,
  Gatherer of hosts to battle, nor herself
  Pallas, however angry, had beheld 480
  That conflict with disdain, Jove to such length
  Protracted on that day the bloody toil
  Of steeds and men for Menoetiades. 
  Nor knew divine Achilles or had aught
  Heard of Patroclus slain, for from the ships 485
  Remote they fought, beneath the walls of Troy. 
  He, therefore, fear’d not for his death, but hope
  Indulged much rather, that, the battle push’d
  To Ilium’s gates, he should return alive. 
  For that his friend, unaided by himself 490
  Or ever aided, should prevail to lay
  Troy waste, he nought supposed; by Thetis warn’d
  In secret conference oft, he better knew
  Jove’s purpose; yet not even she had borne
  Those dreadful tidings to his ear, the loss 495
  Immeasurable of his dearest friend. 
    They all around the dead fought spear in hand
  With mutual slaughter ceaseless, and amid
  Achaia’s host thus spake a Chief mail-arm’d. 
    Shame were it, Grecians! should we seek by flight 500
  Our galleys now; yawn earth our feet beneath
  And here ingulf us rather!  Better far
  Than to permit the steed-famed host of Troy
  To drag Patroclus hence into the town,
  And make the glory of this conflict theirs. 505
    Thus also of the dauntless Trojans spake
  A certain warrior.  Oh, my friends! although
  The Fates ordain us, one and all, to die
  Around this body, stand! quit not the field. 
    So spake the warrior prompting into act 510
  The courage of his friends, and such they strove
  On both sides; high into the vault of heaven
  The iron din pass’d through the desart air. 
  Meantime the horses of AEacides
  From fight withdrawn, soon as they understood 515
  Their charioteer fallen in the dust beneath
  The arm of homicidal Hector, wept. 
  Them oft with hasty lash Diores’ son
  Automedon impatient smote, full oft
  He stroked them gently, and as oft he chode;[7] 520
  Yet neither to the fleet ranged on the shore
  Of spacious Hellespont would they return,
  Nor with the Grecians seek the fight, but stood
  As a sepulchral pillar stands, unmoved
  Between their traces;[8] to the earth they hung 525
  Their heads, with plenteous tears their driver mourn’d,
  And mingled their dishevell’d manes with dust. 
  Jove saw their grief with pity, and his brows
  Shaking, within himself thus, pensive, said. 
    Ah hapless pair!  Wherefore by gift divine 530
  Were ye to Peleus given, a mortal king,
  Yourselves immortal and from age exempt? 
  Was it that ye might share in human woes? 
  For, of all things that breathe or creep