For after Hector’s death thine next ensues. 120
Then answer, thus, indignant he return’d. 
Death, seize me now! since when my friend was slain,
My doom was, not to succor him.  He died
From home remote, and wanting me to save him. 
Now, therefore, since I neither visit more 125
My native land, nor, present here, have aught
Avail’d Patroclus or my many friends
Whom noble Hector hath in battle slain,
But here I sit unprofitable grown,
Earth’s burden, though of such heroic note, 130
If not in council foremost (for I yield
That prize to others) yet in feats of arms,
Such as none other in Achaia’s host,
May fierce contention from among the Gods
Perish, and from among the human race, 135
With wrath, which sets the wisest hearts on fire;
Sweeter than dropping honey to the taste,
But in the bosom of mankind, a smoke![3]
Such was my wrath which Agamemnon roused,
The king of men.  But since the past is fled 140
Irrevocable, howsoe’er distress’d,
Renounce we now vain musings on the past,
Content through sad necessity.  I go
In quest of noble Hector, who hath slain
My loved Patroclus, and such death will take 145
As Jove ordains me and the Powers of Heaven
At their own season, send it when they may. 
For neither might the force of Hercules,
Although high-favored of Saturnian Jove,
From death escape, but Fate and the revenge 150
Restless of Juno vanquish’d even Him. 
I also, if a destiny like his
Await me, shall, like him, find rest in death;
But glory calls me now; now will I make
Some Trojan wife or Dardan with both hands 155
Wipe her soft cheeks, and utter many a groan. 
Long time have I been absent from the field,
And they shall know it.  Love me as thou may’st,
Yet thwart me not, for I am fixt to go. 
Whom Thetis answer’d, Goddess of the Deep. 160
Thou hast well said, my son! it is no blame
To save from threaten’d death our suffering friends. 
But thy magnificent and dazzling arms
Are now in Trojan hands; them Hector wears
Exulting, but ordain’d not long to exult, 165
So habited; his death is also nigh. 
But thou with yonder warring multitudes
Mix not till thou behold me here again;
For with the rising sun I will return
To-morrow, and will bring thee glorious arms, 170
By Vulcan forged himself, the King of fire.[4]
She said, and turning from her son aside,
The sisterhood of Ocean thus address’d. 
Plunge ye again into the briny Deep,
And to the hoary Sovereign of the floods 175
Report as ye have heard.  I to the heights
Olympian haste, that I may there obtain
From Vulcan, glorious artist of the skies,