With large libations soaking deep the soil,
And calling on the spirit of his friend. 
As some fond father mourns, burning the bones
Of his own son, who, dying on the eve 280
Of his glad nuptials, hath his parents left
O’erwhelm’d with inconsolable distress,
So mourn’d Achilles, his companion’s bones
Burning, and pacing to and fro the field
Beside the pile with many a sigh profound. 285
But when the star, day’s harbinger, arose,
Soon after whom, in saffron vest attired
The morn her beams diffuses o’er the sea,
The pile, then wasted, ceased to flame, and then
Back flew the Winds over the Thracian deep 290
Rolling the flood before them as they pass’d. 
And now Pelides lying down apart
From the funereal pile, slept, but not long,
Though weary; waken’d by the stir and din
Of Agamemnon’s train.  He sat erect, 295
And thus the leaders of the host address’d. 
Atrides, and ye potentates who rule
The whole Achaian host! first quench the pile
Throughout with generous wine, where’er the fire
Hath seized it.  We will then the bones collect 300
Of Menoetiades, which shall with ease
Be known, though many bones lie scatter’d near,
Since in the middle pile Patroclus lay,
But wide apart and on its verge we burn’d
The steeds and Trojans, a promiscuous heap. 305
Them so collected in a golden vase
We will dispose, lined with a double cawl,
Till I shall, also, to my home below. 
I wish not now a tomb of amplest bounds,
But such as may suffice, which yet in height 310
The Grecians and in breadth shall much augment
Hereafter, who, survivors of my fate,
Shall still remain in the Achaian fleet. 
So spake Pelides, and the Chiefs complied. 
Where’er the pile had blazed, with generous wine 315
They quench’d it, and the hills of ashes sank. 
Then, weeping, to a golden vase, with lard
Twice lined, they gave their gentle comrade’s bones
Fire-bleach’d, and lodging safely in his tent
The relics, overspread them with a veil. 320
Designing, next, the compass of the tomb,
They mark’d its boundary with stones, then fill’d
The wide enclosure hastily with earth,
And, having heap’d it to its height, return’d. 
But all the people, by Achilles still 325
Detain’d, there sitting, form’d a spacious ring,
And he the destined prizes from his fleet
Produced, capacious caldrons, tripods bright,
Steeds, mules, tall oxen, women at the breast
Close-cinctured, elegant, and unwrought[10] iron. 330
First, to the chariot-drivers he proposed
A noble prize; a beauteous maiden versed
In arts domestic, with a tripod ear’d,
Of twenty and two measures.  These he made