morseless are you. If however you are kept
back through knowledge of some oracle, or if your mother Thetis has
told you something from the mouth of Jove, at least send me and the
Myrmidons with me, if I may bring deliverance to the Danaans. Let me
moreover wear your armour; the Trojans may thus mistake me for you and
quit the field, so that the hard-pressed sons of the Achaeans may have
breathing time--which while they are fighting may hardly be. We who are
fresh might soon drive tired men back from our ships and tents to their
own city."

He knew not what he was asking, nor that he was suing for his own
destruction. Achilles was deeply moved and answered, "What, noble
Patroclus, are you saying? I know no prophesyings which I am heeding,
nor has my mother told me anything from the mouth of Jove, but I am cut
to the very heart that one of my own rank should dare to rob me because
he is more powerful than I am. This, after all that I have gone
through, is more than I can endure. The girl whom the sons of the
Achaeans chose for me, whom I won as the fruit of my spear on having
sacked a city--her has King Agamemnon taken from me as though I were
some common vagrant. Still, let bygones be bygones: no man may keep his
anger for ever; I said I would not relent till battle and the cry of
war had reached my own ships; nevertheless, now gird my armour about
your shoulders, and lead the Myrmidons to battle, for the dark cloud of
Trojans has burst furiously over our fleet; the Argives are driven back
on to the beach, cooped within a narrow space, and the whole people of
Troy has taken heart to sally out against them, because they see not
the visor of my helmet gleaming near them. Had they seen this, there
would not have been a creek nor grip that had not been filled with
their dead as they fled back again. And so it would have been, if only
King Agamemnon had dealt fairly by me. As it is the Trojans have beset
our host. Diomed son of Tydeus no longer wields his spear to defend the
Danaans, neither have I heard the voice of the son of Atreus coming
from his hated head, whereas that of murderous Hector rings in my cars
as he gives orders to the Trojans, who triumph over the Achaeans and
fill the whole plain with their cry of battle. But even so, Patroclus,
fall upon them and save the fleet, lest the Trojans fire it and prevent
us from being able to return. Do, however, as I now bid you, that you
may win me great honour from all the D