“Then shall I quit Patroclus on the plain, Slain in my cause, and for my honour slain! Desert the arms, the relics, of my friend? Or singly, Hector and his troops attend? Sure where such partial favour heaven bestow’d, To brave the hero were to brave the god: Forgive me, Greece, if once I quit the field; ’Tis not to Hector, but to heaven I yield. Yet, nor the god, nor heaven, should give me fear, Did but the voice of Ajax reach my ear: Still would we turn, still battle on the plains, And give Achilles all that yet remains Of his and our Patroclus—” This, no more The time allow’d: Troy thicken’d on the shore. A sable scene! The terrors Hector led. Slow he recedes, and sighing quits the dead.