“Now shalt thou, Hector, singly matched with me, Learn by what chiefs the Achaian host is led Besides Achilles, mighty though he be to To break through squadrons, and of lion-heart Still in the beaked ships in which he crossed The sea he cherishes his wrath against The shepherd of the people⁠—Atreus’ son. But we have those that dare defy thee yet, And they are many. Let the fight begin.”

Then answered Hector of the plumèd helm:⁠— “O high-born Ajax, son of Telamon, And prince among thy people, think thou not To treat me like a stripling weak of arm, Or woman all untrained to tasks of war. I know what battles are and bloody frays, And how to shift to right and left the shield. Of seasoned hide, and, unfatigued, maintain The combat; how on foot to charge the foe With steps that move to martial airs, and how To leap into the chariot and pursue The war with rushing steeds. Yet not by stealth Seek I to smite thee, valiant as thou art, But in fair open battle, if I may.”