“Ah me! If I should pass within the walls, Then will Polydamas be first to cast Reproach upon me; for he counselled me To lead the Trojans back into the town That fatal night which saw Achilles rise To join the war again. I yielded not To his advice; far better if I had. Now, since my fatal stubbornness has brought This ruin on my people, I most dread The censure of the men and long-robed dames Of Ilium. Men less brave than I will say, ‘Foolhardy Hector in his pride has thrown His people’s lives away.’ So will they speak, And better were it for me to return, Achilles slain, or, slain myself by him, To perish for my country gloriously. But should I lay aside this bossy shield And this stout helm, and lean against the wall This spear, and go to meet the gallant son Of Peleus, with a promise to restore Helen and all the treasure brought with her To Troy by Paris, in his roomy ships— All that the war was waged for—that the sons Of Atreus may convey it hence, besides Wealth drawn from all the hoards within the town, And to be shared among the Greeks; for I Would bind the Trojans by a solemn oath To keep back nothing, but divide the whole— Whate’er of riches this fair town contains— Into two parts—But why should I waste thought On plans like these? I must not act the part Of suppliant to a man who may not show Regard or mercy, but may hew me down Defenceless, with my armor laid aside As if I were a woman. Not with him May I hold parley from a tree or rock, As youths and maidens with each other hold Light converse. Better ’twere to rush at once To combat, and the sooner learn to whom Olympian Jove decrees the victory.”
Such were his thoughts. Achilles now drew near. Like crested Mars, the warrior-god, he came. On his right shoulder quivered fearfully The Pelian ash, and from his burnished mail There streamed a light as of a blazing fire, Or of the rising sun. When Hector saw, He trembled, nor could venture to remain, But left the gates and fled away in fear. Pelides, trusting to his rapid feet, Pursued him. As, among the mountain wilds, A falcon, fleetest of the birds of air, Darts toward a timid dove that wheels away To shun him by a sidelong flight, while he Springs after her again