At this he bared his breast, and show’d his scars, As of a furrow’d field, well plough’d with wars; “Nor is this part unexercised,” said he; “That giant bulk of his from wounds is free: Safe in his shield, he fears no foe to try, And better manages his blood than I: But this avails me not; our boaster strove Not with our foes alone, but partial Jove, To save the fleet: this I confess is true: (Nor will I take from any man his due:) But thus assuming all, he robs from you. Some part of honour to your share will fall, He did the best indeed, but did not all. Patroclus in Achilles’ arms, and thought The chief he seem’d, with equal ardour fought; Preserved the fleet, repell’d the raging fire, And forced the fearful Trojans to retire.