Yet, like a great rock that the fierce floods of winter tear from a mountain-side, and that crashes through the forests and thunders down the valleys, destroying as it goes, so did Hector press onward. Behind him in heaps lay the slain, the moans of the dying mingled with the din of battle, and the dark night of death blinded the eyes of many a mighty chief.
‘Thinkest thou to spoil our ships!’ called Ajax to Hector. ‘To the gods, and not to the men of Troy do we owe our evil plight. Yet ere long will Troy fall before us, and thou thyself wilt pray to Zeus to make thy steeds fleet as falcons as they bear thee in shameful plight back to thy city, across the plain.’
To Ajax did Hector make answer:
‘Blundering boaster art thou! Woe cometh this day to the Greeks! And thou, Ajax, if thou hast courage to meet my spear, shalt be food for the birds and the dogs.’
In his tent the heart of Agamemnon sank within him, and those beside him did he counsel that they should drag their ships down to the sea and swiftly sail away.
‘There is no shame in fleeing from ruin,’ said he.
But Odysseus and Diomedes replied with angry scorn to the coward words of their overlord.
‘Let us go down to the battle, wounded though we be,’ said Diomedes.
So they set forth, and with them went Agamemnon, and through the long day did that mortal fight go on. Now would the Trojans triumph, and again to the men of Greece would come the victory.
At last, before a huge stone, hurled by Ajax, did Hector fall. Like a mighty oak smitten by lightning he fell, and the Trojans bore him away, the black blood gushing from his mouth.