“Rise, son of Peleus! rise, divinely brave! Assist the combat, and Patroclus save: For him the slaughter to the fleet they spread, And fall by mutual wounds around the dead. To drag him back to Troy the foe contends: Nor with his death the rage of Hector ends: A prey to dogs he dooms the corse to lie, And marks the place to fix his head on high. Rise, and prevent (if yet you think of fame) Thy friend’s disgrace, thy own eternal shame!”