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.”