My bones sepulchre not from thine apart,
But as, together we were nourish’d both
Beneath thy roof (what time from Opoeis 105
Menoetius led me to thy father’s house,
Although a child, yet fugitive for blood,
Which, in a quarrel at the dice, I spilt,
Killing my playmate by a casual blow,
The offspring of Amphidamas, when, like 110
A father, Peleus with all tenderness
Received and cherish’d me, and call’d me thine)
So, let one vase inclose, at last, our bones,
The golden vase, thy Goddess mother’s gift.[2]
To whom Achilles, matchless in the race. 115
Ah, loved and honor’d! wherefore hast thou come! 
Why thus enjoin’d me?  I will all perform
With diligence that thou hast now desired. 
But nearer stand, that we may mutual clasp
Each other, though but with a short embrace, 120
And sad satiety of grief enjoy. 
He said, and stretch’d his arms toward the shade,
But him seized not; shrill-clamoring and light
As smoke, the spirit pass’d into the earth. 
Amazed, upsprang Achilles, clash’d aloud 125
His palms together, and thus, sad, exclaim’d. 
Ah then, ye Gods! there doubtless are below
The soul and semblance both, but empty forms;
For all night long, mourning, disconsolate,
The soul of my Patroclus, hapless friend! 130
Hath hover’d o’er me, giving me in charge
His last requests, just image of himself. 
So saying, he call’d anew their sorrow forth,
And rosy-palm’d Aurora found them all
Mourning afresh the pitiable dead. 135
Then royal Agamemnon call’d abroad
Mules and mule-drivers from the tents in haste
To gather wood.  Uprose a valiant man,
Friend of the virtuous Chief Idomeneus,
Meriones, who led them to the task. 140
They, bearing each in hand his sharpen’d axe
And twisted cord, thence journey’d forth, the mules
Driving before them; much uneven space
They measured, hill and dale, right onward now,
And now circuitous; but at the groves 145
Arrived at length, of Ida fountain-fed,
Their keen-edged axes to the towering oaks
Dispatchful they applied; down fell the trees
With crash sonorous.  Splitting, next, the trunks,
They bound them on the mules; they, with firm hoofs 150
The hill-side stamping, through the thickets rush’d
Desirous of the plain.  Each man his log
(For so the armor-bearer of the King
Of Crete, Meriones, had them enjoin’d)
Bore after them, and each his burthen cast 155
Down on the beach regular, where a tomb
Of ample size Achilles for his friend
Patroclus had, and for himself, design’d. 
Much fuel thrown together, side by side
There down they sat, and his command at once 160