He spake, and, shouting, cheered the Trojans on: “Trojans and Lycians and Dardanians, trained To combat hand to hand, let it be seen, My friends, that ye are men, and still retain Your ancient valor; while I buckle on The glorious armor of the illustrious son Of Peleus, taken from Patroclus slain.”
So spake the crested Hector, and withdrew From the fierce conflict, and with rapid steps O’ertook his comrades as they bore away Townward the glorious arms of Peleus’ son. There from that deadly strife apart he stood, And changed his coat of mail. He gave his own To his companions, to be carried thence To sacred Ilium, and he buckled on The immortal armor of Achilles, son Of Peleus, which the gods of heaven bestowed Upon his father, who in his old age Consigned them to Achilles; but the son Was never in that armor to grow old.
And when the Cloud-compeller Jove beheld Hector apart, accoutred in the arms Of Peleus’ godlike son, he shook his head, And to himself he said: “Unhappy man! Death even now is near to thee, and yet Is not in all thy thoughts. Thou puttest on The heavenly armor of the terrible chief, Before whom others tremble; thou hast slain His friend, the brave and gentle, and hast stripped, To do him shame, the armor from his limbs. Yet will I for the moment give to thee Fresh triumphs, since Andromache shall ne’er Receive, when thou returnest from the field, The armor of Pelides from thy hands.”
The son of Saturn spake, and gave the nod With his dark brows. Well did that coat of mail Suit Hector’s form. Meantime the god of war In all his fierceness entered Hector’s breast: Fresh vigor filled and nerved his frame; he went Along the ranks of his renowned allies With shouts; that glittering armor made him seem The large-souled son of Peleus. To them all He spake in turn, encouraging their hearts— To Mesthles, Glaucus, and Thersilochus, Medon, Deisenor, and Hippothoüs, Asteropaeus, Phorcys, Chromius, And Ennomus the Augur; these the chief Exhorted to the fight with wingèd words:—