threatening: but the gods made vain His threat, and guard inviolate the slain: Celestial Venus hover'd o'er his head, And roseate unguents, heavenly fragrance! shed: She watch'd him all the night and all the day, And drove the bloodhounds from their destined prey. Nor sacred Phoebus less employ'd his care; He pour'd around a veil of gather'd air, And kept the nerves undried, the flesh entire, Against the solar beam and Sirian fire. [Illustration: THE FUNERAL PILE OF PATROCLUS.] THE FUNERAL PILE OF PATROCLUS. Nor yet the pile, where dead Patroclus lies, Smokes, nor as yet the sullen flames arise; But, fast beside, Achilles stood in prayer, Invoked the gods whose spirit moves the air, And victims promised, and libations cast, To gentle Zephyr and the Boreal blast: He call'd the aerial powers, along the skies To breathe, and whisper to the fires to rise. The winged Iris heard the hero's call, And instant hasten'd to their airy hall, Where in old Zephyr's open courts on high, Sat all the blustering brethren of the sky. She shone amidst them, on her painted bow; The rocky pavement glitter'd with the show. All from the banquet rise, and each invites The various goddess to partake the rites. "Not so (the dame replied), I haste to go To sacred Ocean, and the floods below: Even now our solemn hecatombs attend, And heaven is feasting on the world's green end With righteous Ethiops (uncorrupted train!) Far on the extremest limits of the main. But Peleus' son entreats, with sacrifice, The western spirit, and the north, to rise! Let on Patroclus' pile your blast be driven, And bear the blazing honours high to heaven." Swift as the word she vanish'd from their view; Swift as the word the winds tumultuous flew; Forth burst the stormy band with thundering roar, And heaps on heaps the clouds are toss'd before. To the wide main then stooping from the skies, The