dress'd His manly members in the immortal vest; And with perfumes of sweet ambrosial dews Restores his freshness, and his form renews. Then Sleep and Death, two twins of winged race, Of matchless swiftness, but of silent pace, Received Sarpedon, at the god's command, And in a moment reach'd the Lycian land; The corse amidst his weeping friends they laid, Where endless honours wait the sacred shade. Meanwhile Patroclus pours along the plains, With foaming coursers, and with loosen'd reins. Fierce on the Trojan and the Lycian crew, Ah blind to fate! thy headlong fury flew Against what fate and powerful Jove ordain, Vain was thy friend's command, thy courage vain. For he, the god, whose counsels uncontroll'd Dismay the mighty, and confound the bold; The god who gives, resumes, and orders all, He urged thee on, and urged thee on to fall. Who first, brave hero! by that arm was slain, Who last beneath thy vengeance press'd the plain; When heaven itself thy fatal fury led, And call'd to fill the number of the dead? Adrestus first; Autonous then succeeds; Echeclus follows; next young Megas bleeds, Epistor, Melanippus, bite the ground; The slaughter, Elasus and Mulius crown'd: Then sunk Pylartes to eternal night; The rest, dispersing, trust their fates to flight. Now Troy had stoop'd beneath his matchless power, But flaming Phoebus kept the sacred tower Thrice at the battlements Patroclus strook;(246) His blazing aegis thrice Apollo shook; He tried the fourth; when, bursting from the cloud, A more than mortal voice was heard aloud. "Patroclus! cease; this heaven-defended wall Defies thy lance; not fated yet to fall; Thy friend, thy greater far, it shall withstand, Troy shall not stoop even to Achilles' hand." So spoke the god who darts celestial fires; The Greek obeys him, and with awe retires. While Hector, checking at the Scaean gates His panting coursers, in his breast debates, O