Book XXIII - Page 2

therefore, let us do all that this sad festival demands, but at

break of day, King Agamemnon, bid your men bring wood, and

provide all else that the dead may duly take into the realm of

darkness; the fire shall thus burn him out of our sight the

sooner, and the people shall turn again to their own labours."

Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. They made

haste to prepare the meal, they ate, and every man had his full

share so that all were satisfied. As soon as they had had enough

to eat and drink, the others went to their rest each in his own

tent, but the son of Peleus lay grieving among his Myrmidons by

the shore of the sounding sea, in an open place where the waves

came surging in one after another. Here a very deep slumber took

hold upon him and eased the burden of his sorrows, for his limbs

were weary with chasing Hector round windy Ilius. Presently the

sad spirit of Patroclus drew near him, like what he had been in

stature, voice, and the light of his beaming eyes, clad, too, as

he had been clad in life. The spirit hovered over his head and

said--

"You sleep, Achilles, and have forgotten me; you loved me living,

but now that I am dead you think for me no further. Bury me with

all speed that I may pass the gates of Hades; the ghosts, vain

shadows of men that can labour no more, drive me away from them;

they will not yet suffer me to join those that are beyond the

river, and I wander all desolate by the wide gates of the house

of Hades. Give me now your hand I pray you, for when you have

once given me my dues of fire, never shall I again come forth out

of the house of Hades. Nevermore shall we sit apart and take

sweet counsel among the living; the cruel fate which was my

birth-right has yawned its wide jaws around me--nay, you too

Achilles, peer of gods, are doomed to die beneath the wall of the

noble Trojans.

"One prayer more will I make you, if you will grant it; let not

my bones be laid apart from yours, Achilles, but with them; even

as we were brought up together in your own home, what time

Menoetius brought me to you as a child from Opoeis because by a

sad spite I had killed the son of Amphidamas--not of set purpose,

but in childish quarrel over the dice. The knight Peleus took me

into his house, entreated me kindly, and named me to be your

squire; therefore let our bones lie in but a single urn, the

two-handled golden vase given to you by your mother."

And Achilles answered, "Why, true heart, are you come hither to

lay these charges upon me? will of my own self do all as you have