Yet Menelaus, foster-child of Jove, Thy spirit did not prompt thee to remain And aid thy hard-pressed comrades at the spot Whence thou didst send Antilochus, and where The Pyleans longed to keep him. Yet he sent The noble Thrasymedes to their aid, While he returned to where Patroclus lay, And stood beside the warriors there, and said:—
“I sent to swift Achilles at the fleet A messenger, yet think he will not come. Though royal Hector’s deed hath roused his rage, Unarmed he cannot meet the sons of Troy. Consult we then how we may best convey The body to the ships, and how ourselves Escape the doom of death by Trojan hands.”
The mighty Ajax, son of Telamon, Replied: “O Menelaus far-renowned, Well hast thou spoken. Lift thou now the corse, Thou and Meriones, and place yourselves Beneath it, and convey it from the field. We, following you, will combat with the sons Of Troy and noble Hector—we who, named Alike and one in spirit, oft have borne The fury of the battle side by side.”
He ended, and the warriors in their arms Raised with main strength the body from the ground. The Trojans, as they saw it borne away, Shouted behind them, rushing on like hounds That spring upon a wounded forest-boar Before the hunter-youths now pressing close Upon his flank, to tear him, then again, Whene’er he turns upon them in his strength, Retreating in dismay, and put to flight Hither and thither. Thus, in hot pursuit And close array, the Trojans following strook With swords and two-edged spears; but when the twain Turned and stood firm to meet them, every cheek Grew pale, and not a single Trojan dared Draw near the Greeks to combat for the corse.