He spake, and with heroic purpose turned Toward Ilium. As a steed that wins the race Flies at his utmost speed across the plain, And whirls along the chariot, with such speed The son of Peleus moved his rapid feet.

The aged monarch Priam was the first To see him as he scoured the plain, and shone Like to the star which in the autumn time Rises and glows among the lights of heaven With eminent lustre at the dead of night⁠— Orion’s Hound they call it⁠—bright indeed, And yet of baleful omen, for it brings Distressing heat to miserable men. So shone the brass upon the warrior’s breast As on he flew. The aged Priam groaned, And smote his head with lifted hands, and called Aloud, imploring his beloved son, Who eagerly before the city gate Waited his foe Achilles. Priam thus, With outstretched hands, besought him piteously:⁠—