Soon as Aurora heaved her Orient head Above the waves, that blush’d with early red, (With new-born day to gladden mortal sight, And gild the courts of heaven with sacred light,) The immortal arms the goddess-mother bears Swift to her son: her son she finds in tears Stretch’d o’er Patroclus’ corse; while all the rest Their sovereign’s sorrows in their own express’d. A ray divine her heavenly presence shed, And thus, his hand soft touching, Thetis said: