So Hector spake: the Trojans shouted forth Applause, the madmen! Pallas took away Their reason; all approved the fatal plan Of Hector; no one ventured to commend The sober counsel of Polydamas. And then they banqueted throughout the host; But all night long the Achaians mourned with tears Patroclus, while Pelides in the midst, Leading the ceaseless lamentation, placed His slaughter-dealing hands upon the breast Of his companion with continual sighs. As a maned lion, from whose haunt within The thick, dark wood a hunter has borne off The whelps, returning finds them gone, and grieves, And roams the valleys, tracking as he goes The robber, bent to find him, for his rage Is fierce⁠—with such fierce sorrow Peleus’ son Spake, deeply sighing, to his Myrmidons:⁠—