ld your life to Hades of the
noble steeds."

On this the son of Menoetius rebuked him and said, "Meriones, hero
though you be, you should not speak thus; taunting speeches, my good
friend, will not make the Trojans draw away from the dead body; some of
them must go under ground first; blows for battle, and words for
council; fight, therefore, and say nothing."

He led the way as he spoke and the hero went forward with him. As the
sound of woodcutters in some forest glade upon the mountains--and the
thud of their axes is heard afar--even such a din now rose from
earth-clash of bronze armour and of good ox-hide shields, as men smote
each other with their swords and spears pointed at both ends. A man had
need of good eyesight now to know Sarpedon, so covered was he from head
to foot with spears and blood and dust. Men swarmed about the body, as
flies that buzz round the full milk-pails in spring when they are
brimming with milk--even so did they gather round Sarpedon; nor did
Jove turn his keen eyes away for one moment from the fight, but kept
looking at it all the time, for he was settling how best to kill
Patroclus, and considering whether Hector should be allowed to end him
now in the fight round the body of Sarpedon, and strip him of his
armour, or whether he should let him give yet further trouble to the
Trojans. In the end, he deemed it best that the brave squire of
Achilles son of Peleus should drive Hector and the Trojans back towards
the city and take the lives of many. First, therefore, he made Hector
turn fainthearted, whereon he mounted his chariot and fled, bidding the
other Trojans fly also, for he saw that the scales of Jove had turned
against him. Neither would the brave Lycians stand firm; they were
dismayed when they saw their king lying struck to the heart amid a heap
of corpses--for when the son of Saturn made the fight wax hot many had
fallen above him. The Achaeans, therefore stripped the gleaming armour
from his shoulders and the brave son of Menoetius gave it to his men to
take to the ships. Then Jove lord of the storm-cloud said to Apollo,
"Dear Phoebus, go, I pray you, and take Sarpedon out of range of the
weapons; cleanse the black blood from off him, and then bear him a long
way off where you may wash him in the river, anoint him with ambrosia,
and clothe him in immortal raiment; this done, commit him to the arms
of the two fleet messengers, Death, and Sleep, who will carry him
straightway to