Whom answer’d Hector of the glancing helm, Prostrate and helpless: “By thy soul, thy knees, Thy parents’ heads, Achilles, I beseech, Let not my corpse by Grecian dogs be torn. Accept the ample stores of brass and gold, Which as my ransom by my honour’d sire And mother shall be paid thee; but my corpse Restore, that so the men and wives of Troy May deck with honours due my fun’ral pyre.” To whom, with fierce aspect, Achilles thus: “Knee me no knees, vile hound! nor prate to me Of parents! such my hatred, that almost I could persuade myself to tear and eat Thy mangled flesh; such wrongs I have to avenge, He lives not, who can save thee from the dogs; Not though with ransom ten and twenty fold He here should stand, and yet should promise more; No, not though Priam’s royal self should sue To be allow’d for gold to ransom thee; No, not e’en so, thy mother shall obtain To lay thee out upon the couch, and mourn O’er thee, her offspring; but on all thy limbs Shall dogs and carrion vultures make their feast.” To whom thus Hector of the glancing helm, Dying: “I know thee well; nor did I hope To change thy purpose; iron is thy soul. But see that on thy head I bring not down The wrath of Heav’n, when by the Scaean gate The hand of Paris, with Apollo’s aid, Brave warrior as thou art, shall strike thee down.” E’en as he spoke, his eyes were clos’d in death; And to the viewless shades his spirit fled, Mourning his fate, his youth and vigour lost. To him, though dead, Achilles thus replied: “Die thou! my fate I then shall meet, whene’er Jove and th’ immortal Gods shall so decree.” He said, and from the corpse his spear withdrew, And laid aside; then stripp’d the armour off, With, blood besmear’d; the Greeks around him throng’d, Gazing on Hector’s noble form and face, And none approach’d that did not add a wound: And one to other look’d, and said, “Good faith, Hector is easier far to handle now, Then when erewhile he wrapp’d our ships in fire.” Thus would they say, then stab the dead anew. But when the son of Peleus, swift of foot, Had stripp’d the armour from the corpse, he rose, And, standing, thus th’ assembled Greeks address’d: “O friends, the chiefs and councillors of Greece, Since Heav’n hath granted us this man to slay, Whose single arm hath wrought us more of ill Than all the rest combin’d, advance we now Before the city in arms, and trial make What is the mind of Troy; if, Hector slain, They from the citadel intend retreat, Or still, despite their loss, their ground maintain. But wherefore entertain such thoughts, my soul? Beside the ships, unwept, unburied, lies Patroclus: whom I never can forget, While number’d with the living, and my limbs Have pow’r to move; in Hades though the dead May be forgotten, yet e’en there will I The mem’ry of my lov’d companion keep. Now to the ships return we, sons of Greece, Glad paeans singing! with us he shall go; Great glory is ours, the godlike Hector slain, The pride of Troy, and as a God rever’d.”