Seeing that Patroclos was slaughtered,
who was so manly, strong, and young,
the horses of Achilles began weeping;
their deathless nature leapt in rage
at this accomplishment of death.
They waved their heads, and shook their long manes;
with their hooves they struck the earth, and lamented,
knowing Patroclos was lifeless, ruined,
base flesh now—his mind lost—
undefended, breathless,
returning to the great Nothing out of life.
Zeus saw the deathless horses' tears
and pity moved him. "It was wrong,"
he said, "for me to act so carelessly
at Peleus' wedding feast. Not giving you
would have been better, my poor horses.
What could you have found, degraded there,
with miserable mankind,
the plaything of Fate?
Exempt from death, exempt from age,
time's offending rule still subjects you.
Men have tied you on their racks."
And yet not that, but death's eternal ruin
still forced the tears from these two noble beasts