Turn’d thence, the field exploring with an eye
  Sharp as the eagle’s, of all fowls beneath
  The azure heavens for keenest sight renown’d,
  Whom, though he soar sublime, the leveret
  By broadest leaves conceal’d ’scapes not, but swift 820
  Descending, even her he makes his prey;
  So, noble Menelaus! were thine eyes
  Turn’d into every quarter of the host
  In search of Nestor’s son, if still he lived. 
  Him, soon, encouraging his band to fight, 825
  He noticed on the left of all the field,
  And sudden standing at his side, began. 
    Antilochus! oh hear me, noble friend! 
  And thou shalt learn tidings of such a deed
  As best had never been.  Thou know’st, I judge, 830
  And hast already seen, how Jove exalts
  To victory the Trojan host, and rolls
  Distress on ours; but ah!  Patroclus lies,
  Our chief Achaian, slain, whose loss the Greeks
  Fills with regret.  Haste, therefore, to the fleet, 835
  Inform Achilles; bid him haste to save,
  If save he can, the body of his friend;
  He can no more, for Hector hath his arms. 
    He ceased.  Antilochus with horror heard
  Those tidings; mute long time he stood, his eyes 840
  Swam tearful, and his voice, sonorous erst,
  Found utterance none.  Yet even so distress’d,
  He not the more neglected the command
  Of Menelaus.  Setting forth to run,
  He gave his armor to his noble friend 845
  Laodocus, who thither turn’d his steeds,
  And weeping as he went, on rapid feet
  Sped to Achilles with that tale of wo. 
    Nor could the noble Menelaus stay
  To give the weary Pylian band, bereft 850
  Of their beloved Antilochus, his aid,
  But leaving them to Thrasymedes’ care,
  He flew to Menoetiades again,
  And the Ajaces, thus, instant bespake. 
    He goes.  I have dispatch’d him to the fleet 855
  To seek Achilles; but his coming naught
  Expect I now, although with rage he burn
  Against illustrious Hector; for what fight
  Can he, unarm’d, against the Trojans wage? 
  Deliberating, therefore, frame we means 860
  How best to save Patroclus, and to ’scape
  Ourselves unslain from this disastrous field. 
    Whom answer’d the vast son of Telamon. 
  Most noble Menelaus! good is all
  Which thou hast spoken.  Lift ye from the earth 865
  Thou and Meriones, at once, and bear
  The dead Patroclus from the bloody field. 
  To cope meantime with Hector and his host
  Shall be our task, who, one in name, nor less
  In spirit one, already have the brunt 870
  Of much sharp conflict, side by side, sustain’d. 
    He ended; they enfolding in their arms
  The dead, upbore him high above the ground