He spake, and moved the hearts of all to grief And lamentation. Rosy-fingered Morn Dawned on them as around the hapless dead They stood and wept. Then Agamemnon sent In haste from all the tents the mules and men To gather wood, and summoned to the task Meriones, himself a gallant chief, Attendant on the brave Idomeneus. These went with woodmen’s axes and with ropes Well twisted, and before them went the mules. O’er steep, o’er glen, by straight, by winding ways, They journeyed till they reached the woodland wilds Of Ida fresh with springs, and quickly felled With the keen steel the towering oaks that came Crashing to earth. Then, splitting the great trunk. They bound them on the mules, that beat the earth With hasty footsteps through the tangled wood, Impatient for the plain. Each woodcutter Shouldered a tree, for so Meriones, Companion of the brave Idomeneus, Commanded, and at last they laid them down In order on the shore, where Peleus’ son Planned that a mighty sepulchre should rise Both for his friend Patroclus and himself.
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:—