Now the assembly dissolv'd; and the multitude rose and disperst them,

      Each making speed to the ships, for the needful refreshment of nature,

      Food and the sweetness of sleep; but alone in his tent was Achilles,

      Weeping the friend that he lov'd; nor could Sleep, the subduer of all things,

      Master his grief; but he turn'd him continually hither and thither,

      Thinking of all that was gracious and brave in departed Patroclus,

      And of the manifold days they two had been toilfully comrades,

      Both in the battles of men and the perilous tempests of ocean.

      Now on his side, and anon on his back, or with countenance downward,

      Prone in his anguish he sank: then suddenly starting, he wander'd,

      Desolate, forth by the shore; till he noted the burst of the morning

      As on the waters it gleam'd, and the surf-beaten length of the sand-beach.

      Instantly then did he harness his swift-footed horses, and corded

      Hector in rear of the car, to be dragg'd at the wheels in dishonour.

      Thrice at the speed he encircled the tomb of the son of Menœtius,

      Ere he repos'd him again in his tent, and abandon'd the body,

      Flung on its face in the dust; but not unobserv'd of Apollo.

      He, though the hero was dead, with compassionate tenderness eyed him,

      And with the ægis of gold all over protected from blemish,

      Not to be mangled or marr'd in the turbulent trailing of anger.

      Thus in the rage of his mood did he outrage illustrious Hector;

      But from the mansions of bliss the Immortals beheld him with pity,

      And to a stealthy removal incited the slayer of Argus.

      This by the rest was approv'd; but neither of Hera, the white-arm'd,

      Nor of the Blue-eyed Maid, nor of Earth-disturbing Poseidon.

      Steadfast were they in their hatred of Troy, and her king, and her people,

      Even as of old when they swore to avenge the presumption of Paris,

      Who at his shieling insulted majestical Hera and Pallas,

      Yielding the glory to her that had bribed him with wanton allurements.

      But when suspense had endured to the twelfth reappearance of morning,

      Thus, in the midst of the Gods, outspake to them Phœbus Apollo:

      "Cruel are ye and ungrateful, O Gods! was there sacrifice never

      Either of goats or of beeves on your altars devoted by Hector,

      Whom thus, dead as he lies, ye will neither admit to be ransom'd,

      Nor to be seen of his wife, or his child, or the mother that bore him,

      Nor of his father the king, or the people, with woful concernment

      Eager to wrap him in fire and accomplish the rites of departure?

      But with the sanction of Gods ye uphold the insensate Achilles,

      Brutal, perverted in reason, to every remorseful emotion

      Harden'd his heart, as the lion that roams in untameable wildness;

      Who, giving sway to the pride of his strength and his truculent impulse,

      Rushes on sheep in the fold, and engorges his banquet of murder;

      So has the Myrmidon kill'd compassion, nor breathes in his bosom

      Shame, which is potent for good among mortals, as well as for evil.

      Dear was Patroclus to him, but the mourner that buries a brother,

      Yea, and the father forlorn, that has stood by the grave of his offspring,

      These, even these, having wept and lamented, are sooth'd into calmness,

      For in the spirit of man have the Destinies planted submission.

      But because Hector in battle arrested the life of his comrade,

      Therefore encircling the tomb, at the speed of his furious horses,

      Drags he the corse of the fall'n: Neither seemly the action nor prudent;

      He among Us peradventure may rouse a retributing vengeance,

      Brave though he be, that insults the insensible clay in his frenzy."

      Hera, the white-arm'd queen, thus answer'd Apollo in anger:

      "Thou of the Silvern Bow! among them shall thy word have approval,

      Who in equivalent honour have counted Achilles and Hector.

      This from a man had his blood, and was nurs'd at the breast of a woman;

      He that ye estimate with him, conceiv'd in the womb of a Goddess,

      Rear'd by myself, and assign'd by myself for the consort of Peleus,

      Whom above all of his kindred the love of Immortals exalted.

      And ye were witnesses, Gods! Thou, too, at the feast of the Bridal,

      Thou, with the lyre in thy hand, ever-treacherous, friend of the guilty!"

      But