To hold light talk, as youth and maid might hold. Better to dare the fight, and know at once To whom the vict’ry is decreed by Heav’n.” Thus, as he stood, he mus’d; but near approach’d Achilles, terrible as plumed Mars; From his right shoulder brandishing aloft The ashen spear of Peleus, while around Flash’d his bright armour, dazzling as the glare Of burning fire, or of the rising sun. Hector beheld, and trembled at the sight; Nor dar’d he there await th’ attack, but left The gates behind, and, terror-stricken, fled. Forward, with flying foot, Pelides rush’d. As when a falcon, bird of swiftest flight, From some high mountain-top, on tim’rous dove Swoops fiercely down; she, from beneath, in fear, Evades the stroke; he, dashing through the brake, Shrill-shrieking, pounces on his destin’d prey; So, wing’d with desp’rate hate, Achilles flew, So Hector, flying from his keen pursuit, Beneath the walls his active sinews plied. They by the watch-tow’r, and beneath the wall Where stood the wind-beat fig-tree, rac’d amain Along the public road, until they reach’d The fairly-flowing fount whence issu’d forth, From double source, Scamander’s eddying streams. One with hot current flows, and from beneath, As from a furnace, clouds of steam arise; ’Mid summer’s heat the other rises cold As hail, or snow, or water crystalliz’d; Beside the fountains stood the washing-troughs Of well-wrought stone, where erst the wives of Troy And daughters fair their choicest garments wash’d, In peaceful times, ere came the sons of Greece. There rac’d they, one in flight, and one pursuing; Good he who fled, but better who pursu’d, With fiery speed; for on that race was stak’d No common victim, no ignoble ox: The prize at stake was mighty Hector’s life. As when the solid-footed horses fly Around the course, contending for the prize, Tripod, or woman of her lord bereft; So rac’d they thrice around the walls of Troy With active feet; and all the Gods beheld. Then thus began the Sire of Gods and men: “A woful sight mine eyes behold; a man I love in flight around the walls! my heart For Hector grieves, who, now upon the crown Of deeply-furrow’d Ida, now again On Ilium’s heights, with fat of choicest bulls Hath pil’d mine altar; whom around the walls, With flying speed Achilles now pursues. Give me your counsel, Gods, and say, from death If we shall rescue him, or must he die, Brave as he is, beneath Pelides’ hand?” To whom the blue-ey’d Goddess, Pallas, thus: “O Father, lightning-flashing, cloud-girt King, What words are these? wouldst thou a mortal man, Long doom’d by fate, again from death preserve? Do as thou wilt, but not with our consent.” To whom the Cloud-compeller thus replied: “Be of good cheer, my child! unwillingly I speak, yet both thy wishes to oppose: Have then thy will, and draw not back thy hand.” His words fresh impulse gave to Pallas’ zeal, And from Olympus’ heights in haste she sped.