For love deceives the best of woman kind.
For afterwards a man finds pleasure in his pains, when he has suffered long and wandered long. So I will tell you what you ask and seek to know.
Tell me, O muse, of travellers far and wide
It is not possible to fight beyond your strength, even if you strive.
I'll get out of this city alive, even if it kills me!
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.