The whole night the Achaeans
mourned Patroclus, and [Achilles] the son of Peleus led them in their lament.
He laid his murderous hands upon the breast of his comrade, groaning again and
again as a bearded lion when a man who was chasing deer has robbed him of his
young in some dense forest; when the lion comes back he is furious, and
searches dingle and dell to track the hunter if he can find him, for he is mad
with rage - even so with many a sigh did Achilles speak among the Myrmidons
saying, 'Alas! vain were the words with which I cheered the hero Menœtius in
his own house; I said that I would bring his brave son back again to Opöeis
after he had sacked Ilius [Troy] and taken his share of the spoils - but Jove does
not give all men their heart's desire. The same soil shall be reddened here at
Troy by the blood of us both, for I too shall never be welcomed home by the old
knight Peleus, nor by my mother Thetis, but even in this place shall the earth
cover me. Nevertheless, O Patroclus, now that I am left behind you, I will not
bury you, till I have brought hither the head and armour of mighty Hector who
has slain you. Twelve noble sons of Trojans will I behead before your bier to
avenge you; till I have done so you shall lie as you are by the ships, and fair
women of Troy and Dardanus, whom we have taken with spear and strength of arm
when we sacked men's goodly cities, shall weep over you both night and day.' ...
Briseis, fair as Venus, when she
saw the mangled body of Patroclus, flung herself upon it and cried aloud,
tearing her breast, her neck, and her lovely face with both her hands.
Beautiful as a goddess she wept and said, 'Patroclus, dearest friend, when I
went hence I left you living; I return, O prince, to find you dead; thus do
fresh sorrows multiply upon me one after the other. I saw him to whom my father
and mother married me, cut down before our city, and my three own dear brothers
perished with him on the selfsame day; but you, Patroclus, even when Achilles
slew my husband and sacked the city of noble Mynes, told me that I was not to
weep, for you said you would make Achilles marry me, and take me back with him
to Phthia, where we should have a wedding feast among the Myrmidons. You were
always kind to me and I shall never cease to grieve for you.'
She wept as she spoke, and the
women joined in her lament - making as though their tears were for Patroclus,
but in truth each was weeping for her own sorrows.
