“No! By the greatest and the best of gods, By Jupiter, I may not plunge my head Into the bath before I lay my friend Patroclus on the fire, and heap his mound, And till my hair is shorn; for never more In life will be so great a sorrow mine. But now attend we to this mournful feast. And with the morn, O king of men, command That wood be brought, and all things duly done Which may beseem a warrior who goes down Into the lower darkness. Let the flames Seize fiercely and consume him from our sight, And leave the people to the tasks of war.”