“Renowned Achilles, dear to Jupiter! Now may we, as I hope, at last return To the Achaian army and the fleet With glory, Hector slain, the terrible In war. Escape he cannot, even though The archer-god Apollo fling himself With passionate entreaty at the feet Of Jove the Aegis-bearer. Stay thou here And breathe a moment, while I go to him And lure him hither to encounter thee.”
She spake, and he obeyed, and gladly stood Propped on the ashen stem of his keen spear; While, passing on, Minerva overtook The noble Hector. In the outward form, And with the strong voice of Deïphobus, She stood by him and spake these wingèd words:
“Hard pressed I find thee, brother, by the swift Achilles, who, with feet that never rest, Pursues thee round the walls of Priam’s town. But let us make a stand and beat him back.”
And then the crested Hector spake in turn: “Deïphobus, thou ever hast been dear To me beyond my other brethren, sons Of Hecuba and Priam. Now still more I honor thee, since thou hast seen my plight, And for my sake hast ventured forth without The gates, while all the rest remain within.”
And then the blue-eyed Pallas spake again: “Brother! ’tis true, my father, and the queen, My mother, and my comrades, clasped my knees In turn, and earnestly entreated me That I would not go forth, such fear had fallen On all of them; but I was grieved for thee. Now let us combat valiantly, nor spare The weapons that we bear, and we shall learn Whether Achilles, having slain us both, Will carry to the fleet our bloody spoil, Or die himself, the victim of thy spear.”
The treacherous goddess spake, and led the way; And when the advancing chiefs stood face to face, The crested hero, Hector, thus began:—