o in the strife the strength of Hector failed, and he sank
down on the earth. The foot of Achilles rested on his breast, and the
spear's point was on his neck, while Hector said, "Slay me if thou
wilt, but give back my body to my people. Let not the beasts of the
field devour it, and rich gifts shall be thine from my father and my
mother for this kindly deed." But the eyes of Achilles flashed with a
deadly hatred, as he answered, "Were Priam to give me thy weight in
gold, it should not save thy carcass from the birds and dogs." And
Hector said, "I thought not to persuade thee, for thy heart is made of
iron, but see that thou pay not the penalty for thy deed on the day
when Paris and Phoebus Apollo shall slay thee at the Scaean gates of
Ilion." Then the life-blood of Hector reddened the ground as Achilles
said, "Die, wretch! My fate I will meet in the hour when it may please
the undying gods to send it."

But not yet was the vengeance of Achilles accomplished. At his feet
lay Hector dead, but the rage in his heart was fierce as ever, and he
tied the body to his chariot and dragged it furiously, till none who
looked on it could say, "This was the brave and noble Hector." But
things more fearful still came afterwards, for the funeral rites were
done to Patroclus, and twelve sons of the Trojans were slain in the
mighty sacrifice. Still the body of Hector lay on the ground, and the
men of Ilion sought in vain to redeem it from Achilles. But Phoebus
Apollo came down to guard it, and he spread over it his golden shield
to keep away all unseemly things. At last the King, Priam, mounted his
chariot, for he said, "Surely he will not scorn the prayer of a father
when he begs the body of his son." Then Zeus sent Hermes to guide the
old man to the tent of Achilles, so that none others of the Achaians
might see him. Then he stood before the man who had slain his son, and
he kissed his hands, and said, "Hear my prayer, Achilles. Thy father
is an old man like me, but he hopes one day to see thee come back with
great glory from Ilion. My sons are dead, and none had braver sons in
Troy than I; and Hector, the flower and pride of all, has been smitten
by thy spear. Fear the gods, Achilles, and pity me for the remembrance
of thy father, for none has ever dared like me to kiss the hand of the
man who has slain his son." So Priam wept for his dear child, Hector,
and the tears flowed down the cheeks of Achilles as he thought of his
father, Pe