So spake he, offering prayer, and Jupiter, The Great Disposer, hearkened. Half the prayer The All-Father granted him, and half denied: To drive the storm of battle from the fleet He granted, but denied his friend’s return In safety. When the warrior thus had prayed, And poured the wine to Father Jove, he went Into his tent again, and there replaced The goblet in the coffer. Coming forth, He stood before the entrance to behold The terrible encounter of the hosts.

The newly armed, led by their gallant chief, Patroclus, marched in warlike order forth, And in high hope, to fall upon the foe. As wasps, that by the wayside build their cells, Angered from time to time by thoughtless boys⁠— Whence mischief comes to many⁠—if by chance Some passing traveller should unwittingly Disturb them, all at once are on the wing, And all attack him, to defend their young So fearless and so fierce the Myrmidons Poured from their fleet, and mighty was the din. Patroclus with loud voice exhorted them:⁠—