With gold and brass; but all our houses now 355
Stand emptied of their hidden treasures rare. 
Jove in his wrath hath scatter’d them; our wealth
Is marketed, and Phrygia hath a part
Purchased, and part Maeonia’s lovely land. 
But since the son of wily Saturn old 360
Hath given me glory now, and to inclose
The Grecians in their fleet hemm’d by the sea,
Fool! taint not with such talk the public mind. 
For not a Trojan here will thy advice
Follow, or shall; it hath not my consent. 365
But thus I counsel.  Let us, band by band,
Throughout the host take supper, and let each,
Guarded against nocturnal danger, watch. 
And if a Trojan here be rack’d in mind
Lest his possessions perish, let him cast 370
His golden heaps into the public maw,[6]
Far better so consumed than by the Greeks. 
Then, with the morrow’s dawn, all fair array’d
In battle, we will give them at their fleet
Sharp onset, and if Peleus’ noble son 375
Have risen indeed to conflict for the ships,
The worse for him.  I shall not for his sake
Avoid the deep-toned battle, but will firm
Oppose his utmost.  Either he shall gain
Or I, great glory.  Mars his favors deals 380
Impartial, and the slayer oft is slain. 
So counsell’d Hector, whom with shouts of praise
The Trojans answer’d:—­fools, and by the power
Of Pallas of all sober thought bereft! 
For all applauded Hector, who had given 385
Advice pernicious, and Polydamas,
Whose counsel was discreet and wholesome none. 
So then they took repast.  But all night long
The Grecians o’er Patroclus wept aloud,
While, standing in the midst, Pelides led 390
The lamentation, heaving many a groan,
And on the bosom of his breathless friend
Imposing, sad, his homicidal hands. 
As the grim lion, from whose gloomy lair
Among thick trees the hunter hath his whelps 395
Purloin’d, too late returning mourns his loss,
Then, up and down, the length of many a vale
Courses, exploring fierce the robber’s foot,
Incensed as he, and with a sigh deep-drawn
Thus to his Myrmidons Achilles spake. 400
How vain, alas! my word spoken that day
At random, when to soothe the hero’s fears
Menoetius, then our guest, I promised him
His noble son at Opoeis again,
Living and laden with the spoils of Troy! 405
But Jove performs not all the thoughts of man,
For we were both destined to tinge the soil
Of Ilium with our blood, nor I shall see,
Myself, my father in his mansion more
Or Thetis, but must find my burial here. 410
Yet, my Patroclus! since the earth expects
Me next, I will not thy funereal rites