vengeance of the Grecians. Achilles replies that before Patroclus was slain he had saved many a Trojan; but henceforth no one should be spared— least of all any son of Priam.

THE DEATH OF LYCAON.

Thou too, my friend, must die-why vainly wail?
Dead is Patroclus too, thy better far;

Me too thou seest-how stalwart, tall, and fair,
Of noble sire and goddess-mother born;
Yet I must yield to Death and stubborn Fate,
Whene'er, at morn or noon or eve, the spear
Or arrow from the bow may reach my life.

-Translation of LORD DERBY.

The remnant of the routed Trojans have made good their retreat within the city walls, all except Hector, who remains outside the Scæan gate, waiting for Achilles to come up. But at the approach of the Grecian he turns and flies, followed hard by Achilles, who chases him thrice around the town in full view of the Trojans who crowd the ramparts. Fleet as Hector is, Achilles is still fleeter. He overtakes Hector, beckoning to his comrades not to interfere in any way; for he alone will wreak vengeance upon the slayer of Patroclus. Zeus is now minded to save Hector; but Pallas reminds him of that supreme Destiny, to whose decrees even the Ruler of Olympus must yield obedience. He lifts aloft the golden balances, and the scale of Hector kicks the beam. Even the King of gods and men cannot now save him. Hector stands at bay; but before blows are struck, he tries to engage Achilles in a compact that, whichever shall fall, his adversary shall

restore the dead body of the other to his friends with all due honor. But Achilles fiercely rejects the proposition.

ACHILLES'S REPLY TO HECTOR.

Talk not to me of compacts; as 'tween men
And lions no firm concord can exist,
Nor wolves and lambs in harmony unite,
But ceaseless enmity between them dwells;
So not in friendly terms, nor compact firm,
Can thou and I unite, till one of us

Glut with his blood the mail-clad warrior Mars.
Mind thee all thy fence; behoves thee now
To prove a spearman skilled, and warrior brave,
For thee escape is none; now by my spear

Hath Pallas doomed thy death. My comrade's blood,
Which thou hast shed, shall all be now avenged.

Translation of LORD DERBY.

Achilles's spear, launched at these words, misses its mark; that of Hector glances harmless from the celestial shield. Hector, having no second spear, rushes, sword in hand, upon Achilles, who, watching his opportunity, thrusts his sharp spear through the joint in the armor where the breastplate joins the gorget. The victor brutally assures his dying enemy that his body shall be consigned to the dogs and the vultures. The Grecians now crowd around, and plunge their spears into the all but dead body. Achilles orders the heels of Hector to be pierced, cords to be run through the holes and fastened to his chariot; and so the body is dragged off to the ships, and flung in the dust before the bier upon which the corpse of Patroclus is lying. That night the shade of Patroclus appears to the sleeping Achilles, and presents his last request.

THE ENTREATY OF THE SHADE OF PATROCLUS.

Sleep'st thou, Achilles, mindless of thy friend,
Neglecting not the living but the dead?
Hasten my funeral rites, that I may pass
Through Hades's gloomy gates. Ere those be done,
The spirits and spectres of departed men
Drive me far from them, nor allow to cross

Th' abhorred river; but forlorn and sad

I wander through the wide-spread realms of night.
And give me now thy hand, whereon to weep;
For never more, when laid upon the pyre,

Shall I return from Hades; never more,
Apart from all our comrades, shall we two,

As friends, sweet counsel take. For me stern Death,
The common lot of man, has ope'd his mouth.
Thou, too, Achilles, rival of the gods,

Art destined here beneath the walls of Troy
To meet thy doom. Yet one thing I must add
And make, if thou wilt grant it, one request:
Let not my bones be laid apart from thine,
Achilles, but together, as our youth
Was spent together in thy father's house.

-Translation of LORD DERBY.

The preparations for the obsequies of Patroclus are speedily concluded. Agamemnon has already cut down wood for a huge funeral pyre. The corpse is borne in long procession and placed upon it. Each warrior cuts off long locks of his hair, which are laid upon the body as an offering to the gods below. Four chariot horses and two household dogs are slain upon the pyre. The twelve Trojan captives are slaughtered by Achilles with his own hand, and added to the victims. The fire is lighted and blazes all night, Achilles continually pouring on libations from a golden goblet. In the morning the embers are quenched with wine, and the bones of Patroclus are col