She spake, and left the cavern. All the nymphs Went with her weeping. Round their way the waves Of ocean parted. When they reached the fields Of fertile Troas, up the shore they went In ordered files to where, a numerous fleet, Drawn from the water, round Achilles lay The swift ships of the Myrmidons. To him His goddess mother came, and with a cry Of grief embraced the head of her dear son, And, mourning o’er him, spake these wingèd words:⁠—

“Why weepest thou, my son? What sorrow now O’ercomes thy spirit? Speak, and hide it not. All thou didst pray for once, with lifted hands, Has been fulfilled by Jove; the sons of Greece, Driven to their galleys, and with thy good help Withdrawn from them, are routed and disgraced.”