Achilles (Mythological character); Classical literature; Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Trojan War
So saying he stood on his guard and awaited Achilles, for he was
now fain to fight him. As a leopardess that bounds from out a
thick covert to attack a hunter—she knows no fear and is not
dismayed by the baying of the hounds; even though the man be too
quick for her and wound her either with thrust or spear, still,
though the spear has pierced her she will not give in till she
has either caught him in her grip or been killed outright—even so
did noble Agenor son of Antenor refuse to fly till he had made
trial of Achilles, and took aim at him with his spear, holding
his round shield before him and crying with a loud voice. “Of a
truth,” said he, “noble Achilles, you deem that you shall this
day sack the city of the proud Trojans. Fool, there will be
trouble enough yet before it, for there is many a brave man of us
still inside who will stand in front of our dear parents with our
wives and children, to defend Ilius. Here therefore, huge and
mighty warrior though you be, here shall you die.”
As he spoke his strong hand hurled his javelin from him, and the
spear struck Achilles on the leg beneath the knee; the greave of
newly wrought tin rang loudly, but the spear recoiled from the
body of him whom it had struck, and did not pierce it, for the
god’s gift stayed it. Achilles in his turn attacked noble Agenor,
but Apollo would not vouchsafe him glory, for he snatched Agenor
away and hid him in a thick mist, sending him out of the battle
unmolested. Then he craftily drew the son of Peleus away from
going after the host, for he put on the semblance of Agenor and
stood in front of Achilles, who ran towards him to give him chase
and pursued him over the corn lands of the plain, turning him
towards the deep waters of the river Scamander. Apollo ran but a
little way before him and beguiled Achilles by making him think
all the time that he was on the point of overtaking him.
Meanwhile the rabble of routed Trojans was thankful to crowd
within the city till their numbers thronged it; no longer did
they dare wait for one another outside the city walls, to learn
who had escaped and who were fallen in fight, but all whose feet
and knees could still carry them poured pell-mell into the town.
BOOK XXII.
The death of Hector.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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