The spirit hovered over his head and said-- "You sleep, Achilles, and have forgotten me; you loved me living, but now that I am dead you think for me no further.

Bury me with all speed that I may pass the gates of Hades; the ghosts, vain shadows of men that can labour no more, drive me away from them; they will not yet suffer me to join those that are beyond the river, and I wander all desolate by the wide gates of the house of Hades.

Give me now your hand I pray you, for when you have once given me my dues of fire, never shall I again come forth out of the house of Hades.

Nevermore shall we sit apart and take sweet counsel among the living; the cruel fate which was my birth-right has yawned its wide jaws around me--nay, you too Achilles, peer of gods, are doomed to die beneath the wall of the noble Trojans.
"One prayer more will I make you, if you will grant it; let not my bones be laid apart from yours, Achilles, but with them; even as we were brought up together in your own home, what time Menoetius brought me to you as a child from Opoeis because by a sad spite I had killed the son of Amphidamas--not of set purpose, but in childish quarrel over the dice.

The knight Peleus took me into his house, entreated me kindly, and named me to be your squire; therefore let our bones lie in but a single urn, the two-handled golden vase given to you by your mother." And Achilles answered, "Why, true heart, are you come hither to lay these charges upon me?
I will of my own self do all as you have bidden me.