Weeping she spake; the women wept with her Seemingly for the dead, but each, in truth, For her own griefs. Meanwhile the elders came Around Achilles, praying him to join The banquet, but the chief, with sighs, refused.

“Dear comrades, if ye love me, do not thus Press me to sit and feast. A mighty woe Weighs down my spirit; it is my resolve To wait and bear until the setting sun.”

So saying, he dismissed the other kings. The sons of Atreus, and the high-born chief Ulysses, Nestor, and Idomeneus, And Phoenix, aged knight, alone remained, And anxiously they sought to comfort him In his great grief; but comfort would he none Ere entering the red jaws of war. He drew Deep sighs, and, thinking on Patroclus, spake: