“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.”