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:⁠—