“Hail, heralds, messengers of Jove and men! Draw near; I blame you not. I only blame Atrides, who hath sent you for the maid. Noble Patroclus! Bring the damsel forth, And let them lead her hence. My witnesses Are ye, before the blessed deities, And mortal men, and this remorseless king, If ever he shall need me to avert The doom of utter ruin from his host. Most sure it is, he madly yields himself To fatal counsels, thoughtless of the past And of the future, nor forecasting how The Greeks may fight, unvanquished, by their fleet.”

He spake. Meantime Patroclus had obeyed The word of his beloved friend. He brought The fair-cheeked maid Briseis from the tent, And she was led away. The messengers Returned to where their barques were moored, and she Unwillingly went with them. Then in tears Achilles, from his friends withdrawing, sat Beside the hoary ocean-marge, and gazed On the black deep beyond, and stretched his hands, And prayed to his dear mother, earnestly:⁠—