valiant slayer 1010
Of multitudes, and thus in accents wing'd,
With fierce delight exulted in his fall.
It was thy thought, Patroclus, to have laid
Our city waste, and to have wafted hence
Our wives and daughters to thy native land, 1015
Their day of liberty for ever set.
Fool! for their sakes the feet of Hector's steeds
Fly into battle, and myself excel,
For their sakes, all our bravest of the spear,
That I may turn from them that evil hour 1020
Necessitous. But thou art vulture's food,
Unhappy youth! all valiant as he is,
Achilles hath no succor given to thee,
Who when he sent the forth whither himself
Would not, thus doubtless gave thee oft in charge: 1025
Ah, well beware, Patroclus, glorious Chief!
That thou revisit not these ships again,
Till first on hero-slaughterer Hector's breast
Thou cleave his bloody corselet. So he spake,
And with vain words thee credulous beguiled. 1030
To whom Patroclus, mighty Chief, with breath
Drawn faintly, and dying, thou didst thus reply.
Now, Hector, boast! now glory! for the son
Of Saturn and Apollo, me with ease
Vanquishing, whom they had themselves disarm'd, 1035
Have made the victory thine; else, twenty such
As thou, had fallen by my victorious spear.
Me Phoebus and my ruthless fate combined
To slay; these foremost; but of mortal men
Euphorbus, and thy praise is only third. 1040
I tell thee also, and within thy heart
Repose it deep--thou shalt not long survive;
But, even now, fate, and a violent death
Attend thee by Achilles' hands ordain'd
To perish, by AEacides the brave.[21] 1045
So saying, the shades of death him wrapp'd around.
Down into Ades from his limbs dismiss'd,
His spirit fled sorrowful, of youth's prime
And vigorous manhood suddenly bereft
Then, him though dead, Hector again bespake. 1050
Patroclus! these prophetic strains of death
At hand, and fate, why hast thou sung to me?
May not the son of Thetis azure-hair'd,
Achilles, perish first by spear of mine?
He said; then pressing with his heel the trunk 1055
Supine, and backward thursting it, he drew
His glittering weapon from the wound, nor stay'd,
But lance in hand, the godlike charioteer
Pursued of swift AEacides, on