Whatever Day Makes Man A Slave, Takes

His Descent Was Like Nightfall.

The Bitter Dregs Of Fortune's Cup To Drain.

I War Not With The Dead.

I Hate To Tell Again A Tale Once Fully Told.

And Overpowered By Memory Both Men Gave Way To Grief. Priam Wept Freely For Man - Killing Hector, Throbbing, Crouching Before Achilles' Feet As Achilles Wept Himself, Now For His Father, Now For Patroclus Once Again And Their Sobbing Rose And Fell Throughout The House.