With oil and honey, he inclined their mouths
Toward the bier, and slew and added next, 220
Deep-groaning and in haste, four martial steeds. 
Nine dogs the hero at his table fed,
Of which beheading two, their carcases
He added also.  Last, twelve gallant sons
Of noble Trojans slaying (for his heart 225
Teem’d with great vengeance) he applied the force
Of hungry flames that should devour the whole,
Then, mourning loud, by name his friend invoked. 
Rejoice, Patroclus! even in the shades,
Behold my promise to thee all fulfill’d! 230
Twelve gallant sons of Trojans famed in arms,
Together with thyself, are all become
Food for these fires:  but fire shall never feed
On Hector; him I destine to the dogs. 
So threaten’d he; but him no dogs devour’d; 235
Them, day and night, Jove’s daughter Venus chased
Afar, and smooth’d the hero o’er with oils
Of rosy scent ambrosial, lest his corse,
Behind Achilles’ chariot dragg’d along
So rudely, should be torn; and Phoebus hung 240
A veil of sable clouds from heaven to earth,
O’ershadowing broad the space where Hector lay,
Lest parching suns intense should stiffen him. 
But the pile kindled not.  Then, Peleus’ son
Seeking a place apart, two Winds in prayer 245
Boreas invoked and Zephyrus, to each
Vowing large sacrifice.  With earnest suit
(Libation pouring from a golden cup)
Their coming he implored, that so the flames
Kindling, incontinent might burn the dead. 250
Iris, his supplications hearing, swift
Convey’d them to the Winds; they, in the hall
Banqueting of the heavy-blowing West
Sat frequent.  Iris, sudden at the gate
Appear’d; they, at the sight upstarting all, 255
Invited each the Goddess to himself. 
But she refused a seat and thus she spake.[9]
I sit not here.  Borne over Ocean’s stream
Again, to AEthiopia’s land I go
Where hecatombs are offer’d to the Gods, 260
Which, with the rest, I also wish to share. 
But Peleus’ son, earnest, the aid implores
Of Boreas and of Zephyrus the loud,
Vowing large sacrifice if ye will fan
Briskly the pile on which Patroclus lies 265
By all Achaia’s warriors deep deplored. 
She said, and went.  Then suddenly arose
The Winds, and, roaring, swept the clouds along. 
First, on the sea they blew; big rose the waves
Beneath the blast.  At fruitful Troy arrived 270
Vehement on the pile they fell, and dread
On all sides soon a crackling blaze ensued. 
All night, together blowing shrill, they drove
The sheeted flames wide from the funeral pile,
And all night long, a goblet in his hand 275
From golden beakers fill’d, Achilles stood