ve's daughter Venus kept them off him night and day, and anointed him
with ambrosial oil of roses that his flesh might not be torn when
Achilles was dragging him about. Phoebus Apollo moreover sent a dark
cloud from heaven to earth, which gave shade to the whole place where
Hector lay, that the heat of the sun might not parch his body.

Now the pyre about dead Patroclus would not kindle. Achilles therefore
bethought him of another matter; he went apart and prayed to the two
winds Boreas and Zephyrus vowing them goodly offerings. He made them
many drink-offerings from the golden cup and besought them to come and
help him that the wood might make haste to kindle and the dead bodies
be consumed. Fleet Iris heard him praying and started off to fetch the
winds. They were holding high feast in the house of boisterous Zephyrus
when Iris came running up to the stone threshold of the house and stood
there, but as soon as they set eyes on her they all came towards her
and each of them called her to him, but Iris would not sit down. "I
cannot stay," she said, "I must go back to the streams of Oceanus and
the land of the Ethiopians who are offering hecatombs to the immortals,
and I would have my share; but Achilles prays that Boreas and shrill
Zephyrus will come to him, and he vows them goodly offerings; he would
have you blow upon the pyre of Patroclus for whom all the Achaeans are
lamenting."

With this she left them, and the two winds rose with a cry that rent
the air and swept the clouds before them. They blew on and on until
they came to the sea, and the waves rose high beneath them, but when
they reached Troy they fell upon the pyre till the mighty flames roared
under the blast that they blew. All night long did they blow hard and
beat upon the fire, and all night long did Achilles grasp his double
cup, drawing wine from a mixing-bowl of gold, and calling upon the
spirit of dead Patroclus as he poured it upon the ground until the
earth was drenched. As a father mourns when he is burning the bones of
his bridegroom son whose death has wrung the hearts of his parents,
even so did Achilles mourn while burning the body of his comrade,
pacing round the bier with piteous groaning and lamentation.

At length as the Morning Star was beginning to herald the light which
saffron-mantled Dawn was soon to suffuse over the sea, the flames fell
and the fire began to die. The winds then went home beyond the Thracian
sea, which roared and b