e that thy death not now impends.
He spake, whom Hector heard with joy elate. 60
Before his van striding into the space
Both hosts between, he with his spear transverse[1]
Press'd back the Trojans, and they sat. Down sat
The well-greaved Grecians also at command
Of Agamemnon; and in shape assumed 65
Of vultures, Pallas and Apollo perch'd
High on the lofty beech sacred to Jove
The father AEgis-arm'd; delighted thence
They view'd the peopled plain horrent around
With shields and helms and glittering spears erect. 70
As when fresh-blowing Zephyrus the flood
Sweeps first, the ocean blackens at the blast,
Such seem'd the plain whereon the Achaians sat
And Trojans, whom between thus Hector spake.
Ye Trojans and Achaians brazen-greaved, 75
Attend while I shall speak! Jove high-enthroned
Hath not fulfill'd the truce, but evil plans
Against both hosts, till either ye shall take
Troy's lofty towers, or shall yourselves in flight
Fall vanquish'd at your billow-cleaving barks. 80
With you is all the flower of Greece.[2] Let him
Whose heart shall move him to encounter sole
Illustrious Hector, from among you all
Stand forth, and Jove be witness to us both.
If he, with his long-pointed lance, of life 85
Shall me bereave, my armor is his prize,
Which he shall hence into your fleet convey;
Not so my body; that he shall resign
For burial to the men and wives of Troy.
But if Apollo make the glory mine, 90
And he fall vanquish'd, him will I despoil,
And hence conveying into sacred Troy
His arms, will in the temple hang them high[3]
Of the bow-bender God, but I will send
His body to the fleet, that him the Greeks 95
May grace with rights funereal. On the banks
Of wide-spread Hellespont ye shall upraise
His tomb, and as they cleave with oary barks
The sable deep, posterity shall say--
"It is a warrior's tomb; in ancient days 100
The Hero died; him warlike Hector slew."
So men shall speak hereafter, and my fame
Who slew him, and my praise, shall never die.
He ceased, and all sat mute. His challenge bold
None dared accept, which yet they blush'd to shun, 105
Till Menelaus, at the last, arose
Groaning profound, and thus reproach'd the