Then thou, Patroclus, with a faltering voice, Didst answer thus: “Now, Hector, while thou mayst, Utter thy boast in swelling words, since Jove And Phoebus gave the victory to thee. Easily have they vanquished me; ’twas they Who stripped the armor from my limbs, for else, If twenty such as thou had met me, all Had perished by my spear. A cruel fate O’ertakes me, aided by Latona’s son, The god, and by Euphorbus among men. Thou who shalt take my spoil art but the third; Yet hear my words, and keep them in thy thought. Not long shalt thou remain alive; thy death By violence is at hand, and thou must fall, Slain by the hand of great Aeacides.”