In peril. Through that part the noble son Of Peleus drave his spear; it went quite through The tender neck, and yet the brazen blade Cleft not the windpipe, and the power to speak Remained. The Trojan fell amid the dust, And thus Achilles boasted o’er his fall:⁠—

“Hector, when from the slain Patroclus thou Didst strip his armor, little didst thou think Of danger. Thou hadst then no fear of me, Who was not near thee to avenge his death. Fool! There was left within the roomy ships A mightier one than he, who should come forth, The avenger of his blood, to take thy life. Foul dogs and birds of prey shall tear thy flesh; The Greeks shall honor him with funeral rites.”