"Ah me! why are the long-haired Achaeans driven back in confusion to the ships, routed through the plain? [I fear] lest the gods have accomplished evil sorrows to my soul, as my mother once informed me, and told me that the bravest of the Myrmidons, I being yet alive, would leave the light of the sun, by the hands of the Trojans. Too surely now the valiant son of Menoetius is dead,--obstinate one! certainly I desired him, having repelled the hostile fire, to return to the ships, nor to fight bravely with Hector."
Whilst he was revolving these things in his mind and in his soul, in the meantime the son of illustrious Nestor drew near, shedding warm tears, and delivered his sad message:
"Alas! O son of warlike Peleus, surely thou wilt hear a very grievous message, which—would that it had not taken place. Patroclus lies low; and around his unarmed corse they are now fighting, whilst crest-tossing Hector possesses his armour."
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