So spake he, meditating outrages To noble Hector’s corse, which he had flung Beside the bier of Menoetiades, Amid the dust. The Myrmidons unbraced Their shining brazen armor, and unyoked Their neighing steeds, and sat in thick array Beside the ship of swift Aeacides, While he set forth a sumptuous funeral feast. Many a white ox, that day, beneath the axe Fell to the earth, and many bleating goats And sheep were slain, and many fattened swine, White-toothed, were stretched to roast before the flame Of Vulcan, and around the corse the earth Floated with blood. Meantime the Grecian chiefs To noble Agamemnon’s royal tent Led the swift son of Peleus, though he went Unwillingly, such anger for the death Of his companion burned within his heart. As soon as they had reached his tent, the king Bade the clear-throated heralds o’er the fire Place a huge tripod, that Pelides there Might wash away the bloody stains he bore. Yet would he not, and with an oath replied:⁠—