Patroclus Achillem orat, ut īram dēponat

Patroclus begs Achilles to put aside his anger (Revised Version)

in Alcaics

"Ō nāte dūrā ex rūpe, leōnibus

nutrīte, mollīrī sine tē, precor,

ut fonte pūrō cum minūta est

flamma, furensve fugātus Auster

maris potentī; nam cohibet manūs

vī turma Grāiās Hectoreā tenax:

Lux nostra, nunc exstingue saevum

rōbora quō pereunt Achaea

furōris ignem, tē morientium

clāmor, bucīna et admoneat gravis

nōn sustinērī posse Phoebo

tēla diū Lycia adiuvante."

O, born of the harsh cliff, nourished

by lions, allow yourself to be won over,

I pray, as when fire has been lessened

by clear water, or raging Auster

put to flight by Neptune. For a squadron,

tenacious thanks to Hector’s might,

hems in the Greek forces.

O our light, now quench the fire

of savage anger, through which

the flower of Achaea perish.

Let the cry of the dying, and the

deep-pitched trumpet now remind you

that Lycian spears cannot be sustained

for long, with Phoebus helping (them).