The sire obey’d him, trembling and o’eraw’d. Achilles, like a lion, rush’d abroad: Automedon and Alcimus attend, (Whom most he honour’d, since he lost his friend,) These to unyoke the mules and horses went, And led the hoary herald to the tent; Next, heap’d on high, the numerous presents bear, (Great Hector’s ransom,) from the polish’d car. Two splendid mantles, and a carpet spread, They leave: to cover and enwrap the dead. Then call the handmaids, with assistant toil To wash the body and anoint with oil, Apart from Priam: lest the unhappy sire, Provoked to passion, once more rouse to ire The stern Pelides; and nor sacred age, Nor Jove’s command, should check the rising rage. This done, the garments o’er the corse they spread; Achilles lifts it to the funeral bed: Then, while the body on the car they laid, He groans, and calls on loved Patroclus’ shade: