So brought they to the spot vast heaps of wood, And sat them down, a numerous crowd. But then Achilles bade his valiant Myrmidons Put on their brazen mail and yoke their steeds. At once they rose, and put their harness on, And they who fought from chariots climbed their seats With those who reined the steeds. These led the van, And after them a cloud of men on foot By thousands followed. In the midst was borne Patroclus by his comrades. Cutting off Their hair, they strewed it, covering the dead. Behind the corpse, Achilles in his hands Sustained the head, and wept, for on that day He gave to Hades his most cherished friend. Now when they reached the spot which Pelcus’ son Had chosen, they laid down the dead, and piled The wood around him, while the swift of foot, The great Achilles, bent on other thoughts, Standing apart, cut off his amber hair, Which for the river Sperchius he had long Nourished to ample growth, and, sighing, turned His eyes upon the dark-blue sea, and said:⁠—