And to him again made answer the wounded Eurypylus:“No longer, Zeus-born Patroclus, will there be any defence of the Achaeans, but they will fling themselves upon the black ships.
For verily all they that aforetime were bravest, lie among the ships smitten by darts or wounded with spear-thrusts at the hands of the Trojans, whose strength ever waxeth. But me do thou succour, and lead me to my black ship, and cut the arrow from my thigh, and wash the black blood from it
with warm water, and sprinkle thereon kindly simples of healing power, whereof men say that thou hast learned from Achilles, whom Cheiron taught, the most righteous of the Centaurs. For the leeches, Podaleirius and Machaon, the one methinks lieth wounded amid the huts,
having need himself of a goodly leech, and the other in the plain abideth the sharp battle of the Trojans.”
And to him again spake the valiant son of Menoetius: “How may these things be? What shall we do, warrior Eurypylus? I am on my way to declare to wise-hearted Achilles a message
wherewith Nestor of Gerenia, warder of the Achaeans, charged me. Nay, but even so will I not neglect thee that art in grievous plight.”
He spake and clasped the shepherd of the host beneath the breast, and led him to his hut, and his squire when he saw them strewed upon the ground hides of oxen. There Patroclus made him lie at length,
and with a knife cut from his thigh the sharp-piercing arrow, and from the wound washed the black blood with warm water, and upon it cast a bitter root, when he had rubbed it between his hands, a root that slayeth pain, which stayed all his pangs; and the wound waxed dry, and the blood ceased.