(Unless ye boast that heavenly race in vain)
Be swift, be mindful of the load ye bear
And learn to make your master more your care:
Through falling squadrons bear my slaughtering sword,
Nor, as ye left Patroclus, leave your lord.”
The generous Xanthus, as the words he said,
Seemed sensible of woe, and droop’d his head:
Trembling he stood before the golden wain,
And bow’d to dust the honors of his mane;
When, strange to tell! (so Juno will’d) he broke