ploring each, in show,
The dead Patroclus, but, in truth, herself.[9]
Then the Achaian Chiefs gather'd around
Achilles, wooing him to eat, but he 370
Groan'd and still resolute, their suit refused--
If I have here a friend on whom by prayers
I may prevail, I pray that ye desist,
Nor longer press me, mourner as I am,
To eat or drink, for till the sun go down 375
I am inflexible, and _will_ abstain.
So saying, the other princes he dismiss'd
Impatient, but the sons of Atreus both,
Ulysses, Nestor and Idomeneus,
With Phoenix, hoary warrior, in his tent 380
Abiding still, with cheerful converse kind
Essay'd to soothe him, whose afflicted soul
All soothing scorn'd till he should once again
Rush on the ravening edge of bloody war.
Then, mindful of his friend, groaning he said 385
Time was, unhappiest, dearest of my friends!
When even thou, with diligent dispatch,
Thyself, hast spread a table in my tent,
The hour of battle drawing nigh between
The Greeks and warlike Trojans. But there lies 390
Thy body now, gored by the ruthless steel,
And for thy sake I neither eat nor drink,
Though dearth be none, conscious that other wo
Surpassing this I can have none to fear.
No, not if tidings of my father's death 395
Should reach me, who, this moment, weeps, perhaps,
In Phthia tears of tenderest regret
For such a son; while I, remote from home
Fight for detested Helen under Troy.
Nor even were _he_ dead, whom, if he live, 400
I rear in Scyros, my own darling son,
My Neoptolemus of form divine.[10]
For still this hope I cherish'd in my breast
Till now, that, of us two, myself alone
Should fall at Ilium, and that thou, restored 405
To Phthia, should'st have wafted o'er the waves
My son from Scyros to his native home,
That thou might'st show him all his heritage,
My train of menials, and my fair abode.
For either dead already I account 410
Peleus, or doubt not that his residue
Of miserable life shall soon be spent,
Through stress of age and expectation sad
That tidings of my death shall, next, arrive.
So spake Achilles weeping, around whom 415
The Chiefs all sigh'd, each with remembrance pain'd
Of some loved obje