bespoke his brother of the war: "Our fatal day, alas! is come, my friend; And all our wars and glories at an end! 'Tis not this corse alone we guard in vain, Condemn'd to vultures on the Trojan plain; We too must yield: the same sad fate must fall On thee, on me, perhaps, my friend, on all. See what a tempest direful Hector spreads, And lo! it bursts, it thunders on our heads! Call on our Greeks, if any hear the call, The bravest Greeks: this hour demands them all." The warrior raised his voice, and wide around The field re-echoed the distressful sound. "O chiefs! O princes, to whose hand is given The rule of men; whose glory is from heaven! Whom with due honours both Atrides grace: Ye guides and guardians of our Argive race! All, whom this well-known voice shall reach from far, All, whom I see not through this cloud of war; Come all! let generous rage your arms employ, And save Patroclus from the dogs of Troy." Oilean Ajax first the voice obey'd, Swift was his pace, and ready was his aid: Next him Idomeneus, more slow with age, And Merion, burning with a hero's rage. The long-succeeding numbers who can name? But all were Greeks, and eager all for fame. Fierce to the charge great Hector led the throng; Whole Troy embodied rush'd with shouts along. Thus, when a mountain billow foams and raves, Where some swoln river disembogues his waves, Full in the mouth is stopp'd the rushing tide, The boiling ocean works from side to side, The river trembles to his utmost shore, And distant rocks re-bellow to the roar. Nor less resolved, the firm Achaian band With brazen shields in horrid circle stand. Jove, pouring darkness o'er the mingled fight, Conceals the warriors' shining helms in night: To him, the chief for whom the hosts contend Had lived not hateful, for he lived a friend: Dead he protects him with superior care. Nor dooms his carcase to the birds of air. [Illustration