The swift Achilles answered with a frown: “Accursed Hector, never talk to me Of covenants. Men and lions plight no faith, Nor wolves agree with lambs, but each must plan Evil against the other. So between Thyself and me no compact can exist, Or understood intent. First, one of us Must fall and yield his life-blood to the god Of battles. Summon all thy valor now. A skilful spearman thou hast need to be, And a bold warrior. There is no escape, For now doth Pallas doom thee to be slain By my good spear. Thou shalt repay to me The evil thou hast done my countrymen⁠— My friends whom thou hast slaughtered in thy rage.”

He spake, and, brandishing his massive spear, Hurled it at Hector, who beheld its aim From where he stood. He stooped, and over him The brazen weapon passed, and plunged to earth. Unseen by royal Hector, Pallas went And plucked it from the ground, and brought it back And gave it to the hands of Peleus’ son, While Hector said to his illustrious foe:⁠—