Practice Typing

To him the king. Beloved of Jove. draw near, For sadder tidings never touchd thy ear; Thy eyes have witnessd what a fatal turn. How Ilion triumphs, and the Achaians mourn. This is not all. Patroclus, on the shore Now pale and dead, shall succour Greece no more. Fly to the fleet, this instant fly, and tell The sad Achilles, how his loved one fell. He too may haste the naked corse to gain.