There to high Jove were public thanks affign'd,
As firft of Gods; to Neftor, of mankind.
Such then I was, impell'd by youthful blood;
So proy'd my valour for my country's good.
Achilles with unactive fury glows,
And gives to paffion what to Greece he owes.
How fhall he grieve, when to th' eternal shade
Her hofts fhall fink, nor his the power to aid ?
O friend! my memory recalls the day,
When, gathering aids along the Grecian fea,
I, and Ulyffes, touch'd at Pthia's port,
And enter'd Peleus' hospitable court.
A bull to Jove he flew in facrifice,
And pour'd libations on the flaming thighs.
Thyself, Achilles, and thy reverend fire
Menœtius, turn'd the fragments on the fire.
Achilles fees us, to the feaft invites;
Social we fit, and share the genial rites.
We then explain'd the cause on which we came,
Urg'd you to arms, and found you fierce for fame.
Your ancient fathers generous precepts gave;
Peleus faid only this-" My fon! be brave:
Menoetius thus: "Though great Achilles fhine
"In ftrength superior, and of race divine,
"Yet cooler thoughts thy elder years attend;
"Let thy just counfels aid, and rule thy friend."
Thus fpoke your father at Theffalia's court;
Words now forgot, though now of vast import.
Ah! try the utmost that a friend can say,
Such gentle force the fiercest minds obey.
Some favouring God Achilles' heart may move;
Though deaf to glory, he may yield to love.
If fome dire oracle his breast alarm,
If aught from heaven with-hold his saving arm;
Some beam of comfort yet on Greeee may fhine,
If thou but lead the Myrmidonian line;
Clad in Achilles' arms, if thou appear,
Proud Troy may tremble, and defift from war;
Prefs'd by fresh forces, her o'erlabour'd train
Shall feek their walls, and Greece respire again.
This touch'd his generous heart, and from the tent
Along the fhore with hasty strides he went;
Soon as he came, where, on the crouded strand,
The public mart and courts of justice stand,
Where the tall fleet of great Ulyffes lies,
And altars to the guardian Gods arife;
There fad he met the brave Evæmon's fon,
Large painful drops from all his members run;
An arrow's head yet rooted in his wound,
The fable blood in circles mark'd the ground.
As faintly reeling he confefs'd the smart
but dauntless was his heart; 945
Weak was his pace,
Divine compaffion touch'd Patroclus' breast,
Who, fighing, thus his bleeding friend addrest:
Ah, hapless leaders of the Grecian hoft!
Thus must ye perish on a barbarous coast?
Is this your fate, to glut the dogs with gore,
Far from your friends, and from your native fhore?
Say, great Eurypylus! fhall Greece yet stand?
Refifts the yet the raging Hector's hand?
Or are her heroes doom'd to die with fhame,
And this the period of our wars and fame?
Eurypylus replies: No more, my friend,
Greece is no more! this day her glories end.
Ev'n to the fhips victorious Troy pursues,
Her force encreasing as her toil renews.
Those chiefs, that us'd her utmost rage to meet,
Lie pierc'd with wounds, and bleeding in the fleet.
But thou, Patroclus! act a friendly part,
Lead to my ships, and draw this deadly dart;
With lukewarm water wash the gore away,
With healing balms the raging fmart allay,
Such as fage Chiron, fire of Pharmacy,
Once taught Achilles, and Achilles thee.
Of two fam'd furgeons, Podalirius stands
This hour furrounded by the Trojan bands;
And great Machaon, wounded in his tent,
Now wants that fuccour which fo oft he lent.
To him the chief: What then remains to do?
Th' event of things the Gods alone can view.
Charg'd by Achilles' great command I fly,
And bear with haste the Pylian king's reply;
But thy diftrefs this inftant claims relief.
He said, and in his arms upheld the chief.
The flaves their master's flow approach survey'd,
And hides of oxen on the floor display'd :
There stretch'd at length the wounded hero lay, 980 Patroclus cut the forky steel away.
Then in his hands a bitter root he bruis'd;
The wound he wafh'd, the styptic juice infus'd.
The closing flesh that inftant ceas'd to glow,
The wound to torture, and the blood to flow.
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