“Even here the noise and clash of war comes to my ears. […] Change my form, or let the earth swallow me up. […] “They have really given you back, O my Eurydice!” […] Take, therefore, my armor, and put it on, and mount my chariot and lead the Myrmidons, my followers, but remember my words.” […] Patroclus, whom I loved more than my own life, is dead, and I sit here useless to my friends and harmless to my enemies.