And his heart grew strong within him, to stay and fight. And he cried out aloud to Achilles, “Surely, thou thinkest this very day to sack the proud city of Troy? Fool! many terrible things will happen before that; for there are many of us—many and brave—to protect our dear parents and wives and little children, and to guard holy Ilium. Thou, too, perhaps, mighty as thou art, mayest here meet death.”
He spake and hurled a spear at Achilles with his strong hand. And it smote him below the knee, and the tin-wrought greave rang loudly; but the stout spear bounded off, for it could not pierce the work of Vulcan.
Then Achilles rushed on godlike Agenor; but him Apollo caught in a mist, and carried him safely out of the fray. And the god took the form of Agenor, and ran a little way before Achilles, towards the deep-flowing Scamander. And while Apollo thus deceived the mighty son of Peleus, the routed Trojans ran, well pleased, to their stronghold, and the great city was filled with their multitude.
Then as he ran before Achilles, the mighty Far-Darter addressed him, and spake: “O son of Peleus! why dost thou, being a mortal man, pursue me with thy swift feet, who am a deathless god?” Then, in wrath, the son of Peleus answered him: “Thou hast blinded me, most mischievous of all the Gods! and lured me away from the walls; else would many a Trojan have fallen, or ever he had reached the city.” He then went towards the city, with a proud heart, like a war-horse victorious in a chariot race; and the aged Priam saw him, blazing like the star in autumn brightest of all, which men call “Orion’s Dog,” that bringeth fever upon wretched mortals.
And the old man cried aloud, in his agony, and beat his head with his fists, and called in a piercing voice to his dear son Hector. For the brave hero, when all the others had escaped into the city, remained alone at the Scæan Gate eager to fight with Achilles. And his wretched father stretched forth his withered hands, and pleaded piteously to his son:—
“Hector! dear Hector! do not meet this terrible man alone, for he is far mightier than thou, and knoweth no pity. Already hath he robbed me of many a brave son; and now I no longer see two of my children, Lycaon and the goodly Polydorus, whom Laothoë, princess among women, bare to me. But the death of others will cause us briefer grief, if thou, dear Hector, art not slain. Come, then, within the walls, and save the men and women of Troy! And have pity on me, too, to whom the son of Cronos hath allotted a terrible doom in my old age—to see my brave sons dragged away, and my fair daughters carried off, as captives, by the cruel hands of the Achaians. Last of all, I too shall be torn, on my own threshold, by ravenous dogs—even the dogs which I myself have reared with food from my table, to guard my house. They will tear my flesh and drink my blood! It may well become a young man to lie slain on the field, for he is highly honored in his death; but when dogs defile an old man’s head and beard, this is the most lamentable thing that befalleth wretched mortals.”
And the old man tore his hair in his sore agony; but even he prevailed not with the soul of Hector. And then his dear mother, Hecuba, took up the plaint and spake through her piteous tears.
“Hector! my child! have respect to the mother who bare thee and nursed thee on this bosom! Pity me! and fight the foe from this side of the wall! For if he slay thee, not on a funeral bed shall I, and thy dear wife, won by so many gifts, deplore thee; but the swift dogs shall devour thee, far away from us, by the black ships of the Argives.”
Thus wailed they over their glorious son, beseeching him; but they could not prevail, for honor held him fast. Meanwhile, Achilles drew nigh, in strength like a giant; but Hector awaited him undismayed, leaning his shield against the tower. And he communed thus with his brave soul: “Alas, if I go through the gates, Polydamas will justly blame me; for he gave me good advice—that I should lead the host into the city on that fatal night, when the noble Achilles returned to the war. And I would not hearken to him, although he counseled well. And now that I have brought this evil on the city by my folly, I am ashamed to appear before the men, and the proud dames with trailing robes, lest some one should taunt me and say, ‘Hector in his pride hath ruined us.’ Better then would it be for me to meet Achilles, and either slay him or fall with glory before the city. Or how would it be if I should lay aside all my arms, and go to meet the son of Peleus, and offer to restore Argive Helen and all her possessions to Menelaus and Agamemnon, and to divide the wealth of Troy with the Achaians? But no! I might come to him unarmed, but he is merciless, and would slay me on the spot, as if I were a woman. But why do I hesitate? This is no time to hold dalliance with him, from oak or rock, like youths and maidens. Better to fight at once, and see to whom Olympian Zeus will give the victory!”
While he thus pondered, Achilles, peer of Mars, came on, poising his terrible spear of Pelian ash; and his divine armor, the work of a god, blazed like fire or the rising sun. And when Hector saw him he was seized with panic, and he fled from the gates in terror.