Then spake the valiant Menoetiades:⁠— “O brave Eurypylus! What yet will be The end of this, and what are we to do? Even now I bear a message on my way From reverend Nestor, guardian of the Greeks, To the great warrior, Peleus’ son; and yet I must not leave thee in thine hour of need.”

He spake; and, lifting in his arms the prince, He bore him to his tent. A servant spread, Upon his entering, hides to form a couch; And there Patroclus laid him down and cut The rankling arrow from his thigh, and shed Warm water on the wound to cleanse away The purple blood, and last applied a root Of bitter flavor to assuage the smart, Bruising it first within his palms: the pangs Ceased; the wound dried; the blood no longer flowed.