“But Ajax boasts, that he was only thought A match for Hector, who the combat sought: Sure he forgets the king, the chiefs, and me: All were as eager for the fight as he: He but the ninth, and not by public voice, Or ours preferr’d, was only fortune’s choice: They fought; nor can our hero boast the event, For Hector from the field unwounded went.

“Why am I forced to name that fatal day, That snatch’d the prop and pride of Greece away? I saw Pelides sink, with pious grief, And ran in vain, alas! to his relief; For the brave soul was fled: full of my friend I rush’d amid the war, his relics to defend: Nor ceased my toil till I redeem’d my prey, And, loaded with Achilles, march’d away: Those arms which on these shoulders then I bore ’Tis just you to these shoulders should restore. You see I want not nerves, who could sustain The pond’rous ruins of so great a man: Or if in others equal force you find, None is indued with a more grateful mind.