To woes innumerable; to behold

  Sons slaughter'd, daughters ravish'd, torn and stripp'd

  The matrimonial chamber, infants dash'd

  Against the ground in dire hostility,

  And matrons dragg'd by ruthless Grecian hands.

  Me, haply, last of all, dogs shall devour

  In my own vestibule, when once the spear

  Or falchion of some Greek hath laid me low.

  The very dogs fed at my table-side,

  My portal-guards, drinking their master's blood

  To drunkenness, shall wallow in my courts.

  Fair falls the warlike youth in battle slain,

  And when he lies torn by the pointed steel,

  His death becomes him well; he is secure,

  Though dead, from shame, whatever next befalls:

  But when the silver locks and silver beard

  Of an old man slain by the sword, from dogs

  Receive dishonor, of all ills that wait

  On miserable man, that sure is worst.

  So spake the ancient King, and his grey hairs

  Pluck'd with both hands, but Hector firm endured.

  On the other side all tears his mother stood,

  And lamentation; with one hand she bared,

  And with the other hand produced her breast,

  Then in wing'd accents, weeping, him bespake.

  My Hector! reverence this, and pity me

  If ever, drawing forth this breast, thy griefs

  Of infancy I soothed, oh now, my son!

  Acknowledge it, and from within the walls

  Repulse this enemy; stand not abroad

  To cope with him, for he is savage-fierce,

  And should he slay thee, neither shall myself

  Who bore thee, nor thy noble spouse weep o'er

  Thy body, but, where we can never come,

  Dogs shall devour it in the fleet of Greece.

  So they with prayers importuned, and with tears

  Their son, but him sway'd not; unmoved he stood,

  Expecting vast Achilles now at hand.

  As some fell serpent in his cave expects

  The traveller's approach, batten'd with herbs

  Of baneful juice to fury, forth he looks

  Hideous, and lies coil'd all around his den,

  So Hector, fill'd with confidence untamed,

  Fled not, but placing his bright shield against

  A buttress, with his noble heart conferr'd.

  Alas for me! should I repass the gate,

  Polydamas would be the first to heap

  Reproaches on me, for he bade me lead

  The Trojans back this last calamitous night

  In which Achilles rose to arms again.

  But I refused, although to have complied,

  Had proved more profitable far; since then

  By rash resolves of mine I have destroy'd

  The people, how can I escape the blame

  Of all in Troy? The meanest there will say —

  By his self-will he hath destroy'd us all.

  So shall they speak, and then shall I regret

  That I return'd ere I had slain in fight

  Achilles, or that, by Achilles slain,

  I died not nobly in defence of Troy.

  But shall I thus? Lay down my bossy shield,

  Put off my helmet, and my spear recline

  Against the city wall, then go myself

  To meet the brave Achilles, and at once

  Promise him Helen, for whose sake we strive

  With all the wealth that Paris in his fleet

  Brought home, to be restored to Atreus' sons,

  And to distribute to the Greeks at large

  All hidden treasures of the town, an oath

  Taking beside from every senator,

  That he will nought conceal, but will produce

  And share in just equality what stores

  Soever our fair city still includes?

  Ah airy speculations, questions vain!

  I may not sue to him: compassion none

  Will he vouchsafe me, or my suit respect.

  But, seeing me unarm'd, will sate at once

  His rage, and womanlike I shall be slain.

  It is no time from oak or hollow rock

  With him to parley, as a nymph and swain,

  A nymph and swain soft parley mutual hold,

  But rather to engage in combat fierce

  Incontinent; so shall we soonest learn

  Whom Jove will make victorious, him or me.

  Thus pondering he stood; meantime approach'd

  Achilles, terrible as fiery Mars,

  Crest-tossing God, and brandish'd as he came

  O'er his right shoulder high the Pelian spear.

  Like lightning, or like flame, or like the sun

  Ascending, beam'd his armor. At that sight

  Trembled the Trojan Chief, nor dared expect

  His nearer step, but flying left the gates

  Far distant, and Achilles swift pursued.

  As in the mountains, fleetest fowl of air,

  The hawk darts eager at the dove; she scuds

  Aslant, he screaming, springs and springs again

  To seize her, all impatient for the prey,

  So flew Achilles constant to the track

  Of Hector, who with dreadful haste beneath

  The Trojan bulwarks plied his agile limbs.

  Passing the prospect-mount where high in air

  The wild-fig waved, they rush'd along the road,

  Declining never from the wall of Troy.

  And now they reach'd the running rivulets clear,

  Where from Scamander's dizzy flood arise

  Two fountains, tepid one, from which a smoke

  Issues voluminous as from a fire,

  The other, even in summer heats, like hail

  For cold, or snow, or crystal-stream frost-bound.

  Beside them may be seen the broad canals

  Of marble scoop'd, in which the wives of Troy

  And all her daughters fair were wont to lave

  Their costly raiment, while the land had rest,

  And ere the warlike sons of Greece arrived.

  By these they ran, one fleeing, one in chase.

  Valiant was he who fled, but valiant far

  Beyond him he who urged the swift pursuit;

  Nor ran they for a vulgar prize, a beast

  For sacrifice, or for the hide of such,

  The swift foot-racer's customary meed,

  But for the noble Hector's life they ran.

  As when two steeds, oft conquerors, trim the goal

  For some illustrious prize, a tripod bright

  Or beauteous virgin, at a funeral game,

  So they with nimble feet the city thrice

  Of Priam compass'd. All the Gods look'd on,

  And thus the Sire of Gods and men began.

  Ah — I behold a warrior dear to me

  Around the walls of Ilium driven, and grieve

  For Hector, who the thighs of fatted bulls

  On yonder heights of Ida many-valed

  Burn'd oft to me, and in the heights of Troy:

  But him Achilles, glorious Chief, around

  The city walls of Priam now pursues.

  Consider this, ye Gods! weigh the event.

  Shall we from death save Hector? or, at length,

  Leave him, although in battle high renown'd,

  To perish by the might of Peleus' son?

  Whom answer'd thus Pallas cerulean-eyed.

  Dread Sovereign of the storms! what hast thou said?

  Wouldst thou deliver from the stroke of fate

  A mortal man death-destined from of old?

  Do it; but small thy praise shall be in heaven.

  Then answer thus, cloud-gatherer Jove return'd.

  Fear not, Tritonia, daughter dear! that word

  Spake not my purpose; me thou shalt perceive

  Always to thee indulgent. What thou wilt

  That execute, and use thou no delay.

  So roused he Pallas of herself prepared,

  And from the heights Olympian down she flew.

  With unremitting speed Achilles still

  Urged Hector. As among the mountain-height

  The hound pursues, roused newly from her lair

  The flying fawn through many a vale and grove;

  And though she trembling skulk the shrubs beneath,

  Tracks her continual, till he find the prey,

  So 'scaped not Hector Peleus' rapid son.

  Oft as toward the Dardan gates he sprang

  Direct, and to the bulwarks firm of Troy,

  Hoping some aid by volleys from the wall,

  So oft, outstripping him, Achilles thence

  Enforced him to the field, who, as he might,

  Still ever stretch'd toward the walls again.

  As, in a dream, pursuit hesitates oft,

  This hath no power to fly, that to pursue,

  So these — one fled, and one pursued in vain.

  How, then, had Hector his impending fate

  Eluded, had not Phœbus, at his last,

  Last effort meeting him, his strength restored,

  And wing'd for flight his agile limbs anew?

  The son of Peleus, as he ran, his brows

  Shaking, forbad the people to dismiss

  A dart at Hector, lest a meaner hand

  Piercing him, should usurp the foremost praise.

  But when the fourth time to those rivulets.

  They came, then lifting high his golden scales,

  Two lots the everlasting Father placed

  Within them, for Achilles one, and one

  For Hector, balancing the doom of both.

  Grasping it in the midst, he raised the beam.

  Down went the fatal day of Hector, down

  To Ades, and Apollo left his side.

  Then blue-eyed Pallas hasting to the son

  Of Peleus, in wing'd accents him address'd.

  Now, dear to Jove, Achilles famed in arms!

  I hope that, fierce in combat though he be,

  We shall, at last, slay Hector, and return

  Crown'd with great glory to the fleet of Greece.

  No fear of his deliverance now remains,

  Not even should the King of radiant shafts,

  Apollo, toil in supplication, roll'd

  And roll'd again before the Thunderer's feet.

  But stand, recover breath; myself, the while,

  Shall urge him to oppose thee face to face.

  So Pallas spake, whom joyful he obey'd,

  And on his spear brass-pointed lean'd. But she,

  (Achilles left) to noble Hector pass'd,

  And in the form, and with the voice loud-toned

  Approaching of Deiphobus, his ear

  In accents, as of pity, thus address'd.

  Ah brother! thou art overtask'd, around

  The walls of Troy by swift Achilles driven;

  But stand, that we may chase him in his turn.

  To whom crest-tossing Hector huge replied.

  Deiphobus! of all my father's sons

  Brought forth by Hecuba, I ever loved

  Thee most, but more than ever love thee now,

  Who hast not fear'd, seeing me, for my sake

  To quit the town, where others rest content.

  To whom the Goddess, thus, cerulean-eyed.

  Brother! our parents with much earnest suit

  Clasping my knees, and all my friends implored me

  To stay in Troy, (such fear hath seized on all)

  But grief for thee prey'd on my inmost soul.

  Come — fight we bravely — spare we now our spears

  No longer; now for proof if Peleus' son

  Slaying us both, shall bear into the fleet

  Our arms gore-stain'd, or perish slain by thee.

  So saying, the wily Goddess led the way.

  They soon, approaching each the other, stood

  Opposite, and huge Hector thus began.

  Pelides! I will fly thee now no more.

  Thrice I have compass'd Priam's spacious walls

  A fugitive, and have not dared abide

  Thy onset, but my heart now bids me stand

  Dauntless, and I will slay, or will be slain.

  But come. We will attest the Gods; for they

  Are fittest both to witness and to guard

  Our covenant. If Jove to me vouchsafe

  The hard-earn'd victory, and to take thy life,

  I will not with dishonor foul insult

  Thy body, but, thine armor stripp'd, will give

  Thee to thy friends, as thou shalt me to mine.

  To whom Achilles, lowering dark, replied.

  Hector! my bitterest foe! speak not to me

  Of covenants! as concord can be none

  Lions and men between, nor wolves and lambs

  Can be unanimous, but hate perforce

  Each other by a law not to be changed,

  So cannot amity subsist between

  Thee and myself; nor league make I with thee

  Or compact, till thy blood in battle shed

  Or mine, shall gratify the fiery Mars.

  Rouse all thy virtue; thou hast utmost need

  Of valor now, and of address in arms.

  Escape me more thou canst not; Pallas' hand

  By mine subdues thee; now will I avenge

  At once the agonies of every Greek

  In thy unsparing fury slain by thee.

  He said, and, brandishing the Pelian ash,

  Dismiss'd it; but illustrious Hector warn'd,

  Crouched low, and, overflying him, it pierced

  The soil beyond, whence Pallas plucking it

  Unseen, restored it to Achilles' hand,

  And Hector to his godlike foe replied.

  Godlike Achilles! thou hast err'd, nor know'st

  At all my doom from Jove, as thou pretend'st,

  But seek'st, by subtlety and wind of words,

  All empty sounds, to rob me of my might.

  Yet stand I firm. Think not to pierce my back.

  Behold my bosom! if the Gods permit,

  Meet me advancing, and transpierce me there.

  Meantime avoid my glittering spear, but oh

  May'st thou receive it all! since lighter far

  To Ilium should the toils of battle prove,

  Wert thou once slain, the fiercest of her foes.

  He said, and hurling his long spear with aim

  Unerring, smote the centre of the shield

  Of Peleus' son, but his spear glanced away.

  He, angry to have sent it forth in vain,

  (For he had other none) with eyes downcast

  Stood motionless awhile, then with loud voice

  Sought from Deiphobus, white-shielded Chief,

  A second; but Deiphobus was gone.

  Then Hector understood his doom, and said.

  Ah, it is plain; this is mine hour to die.

  I thought Deiphobus at hand, but me

  Pallas beguiled, and he is still in Troy.

  A bitter death threatens me, it is nigh,

  And there is no escape; Jove, and Jove's son

  Apollo, from the first, although awhile

  My prompt deliverers, chose this lot for me,

  And now it finds me. But I will not fall

  Inglorious; I will act some great exploit

  That shall be celebrated ages hence.

  So saying, his keen falchion from his side

  He drew, well-temper'd, ponderous, and rush'd

  At once to combat. As the eagle darts

  Right downward through a sullen cloud to seize

  Weak lamb or timorous hare, so brandishing

  His splendid falchion, Hector rush'd to fight.

  Achilles, opposite, with fellest ire

  Full-fraught came on; his shield with various art

  Celestial form'd, o'erspread his ample chest,

  And on his radiant casque terrific waved

  The bushy gold of his resplendent crest,

  By Vulcan spun, and pour'd profuse around.

  Bright as, among the stars, the star of all

  Most radiant, Hesperus, at midnight moves,

  So, in the right hand of Achilles beam'd

  His brandish'd spear, while, meditating wo

  To Hector, he explored his noble form,

  Seeking where he was vulnerable most.

  But every part, his dazzling armor torn

  From brave Patroclus' body, well secured,

  Save where the circling key-bone from the neck

  Disjoins the shoulder; there his throat appear'd,

  Whence injured life with swiftest flight escapes;

  Achilles, plunging in that part his spear,

  Impell'd it through the yielding flesh beyond.

  The ashen beam his power of utterance left

  Still unimpair'd, but in the dust he fell,

  And the exulting conqueror exclaim'd.

  But Hector! thou hadst once far other hopes,

  And, stripping slain Patroclus, thought'st thee safe,

  Nor caredst for absent me. Fond dream and vain!

  I was not distant far; in yonder fleet

  He left one able to avenge his death,

  And he hath slain thee. Thee the dogs shall rend

  Dishonorably, and the fowls of air,

  But all Achaia's host shall him entomb.

  To whom the Trojan Chief languid replied.

  By thy own life, by theirs who gave thee birth,

  And by thy knees, oh let not Grecian dogs

  Rend and devour me, but in gold accept

  And brass a ransom at my father's hands,

  And at my mother's an illustrious price;

  Send home my body, grant me burial rites

  Among the daughters and the sons of Troy.

  To whom with aspect stern Achilles thus.

  Dog! neither knees nor parents name to me.

  I would my fierceness of revenge were such,

  That I could carve and eat thee, to whose arms

  Such griefs I owe; so true it is and sure,

  That none shall save thy carcase from the dogs.

  No, trust me, would thy parents bring me weigh'd

  Ten — twenty ransoms, and engage on oath

  To add still more; would thy Dardanian Sire

  Priam, redeem thee with thy weight in gold,

  Not even at that price would I consent

  That she who bare should place thee on thy bier

  With lamentation; dogs and ravening fowls

  Shall rend thy body while a scrap remains.

  Then, dying, warlike Hector thus replied.

  Full well I knew before, how suit of mine

  Should speed preferr'd to thee. Thy heart is steel.

  But oh, while yet thou livest, think, lest the Gods