THE ILIAD: BOOK 22. HECTOR AND ACHILLES by HOMER

BUT when the two were met, and close at hand,
First spoke great Hector of the glancing helm:
"No more before thee, Peleus' son, I fly:
Thrice have I fled around the walls, nor dar'd
Await thine onset; now my spirit is rous'd
To stand before thee, to be slain, or slay.
But let us first th' immortal Gods invoke;
The surest witnesses and guardians they
Of compacts: at my hand no foul disgrace
Shall thou sustain, if Jove with victory
Shall crown my firm endurance, and thy life
To me be forfeit: of thine armor stripp'd
I promise thee, Achilles, to the Greeks,
Thy body to restore; do thou the like."
With fierce regard Achilles answer'd thus:
"Hector, thou object of my deadly hate,
Talk not to me of compacts; as 'tween men
And lions no firm concord can exist,
Nor wolves and lambs in harmony unite,
But ceaseless enmity between them dwells;
So not in friendly terms, nor compact firm,
Can thou and I unite, till one of us
Glut with his blood the mail-clad warrior Mars.
Mind thee of all thy fence; behooves thee now
To prove a spearman skill'd, and warrior brave.
For thee escape is none; now, by my spear,
Hath Pallas doom'd thy death; my comrade's blood,
Which thou hast shed, shall all be now aveng'd."
He said, and poising, hurled his weighty spear;
But Hector saw, and shunn'd the blow; he stoop'd,
And o'er his shoulder flew the brass-tipp'd spear.
Then Hector spoke to Peleus' matchless son
"Thine aim has failed: . . . . .
Now, if thou cans't, elude in turn my spear;
May it be deeply buried in thy flesh!"
He spoke, and poising, hurled his pond'rous spear;
Nor missed his aim; full in the midst he struck
Pelides' shield; but glancing from the shield
The weapon bounded off . . . . . .
Then Hector knew that he was duped and cried,
"O Heaven! the gods above have doomed my death.
Thus as he spoke, his sharp-edged sword he drew,
Pond'rous and vast, suspended at his side;
Collected for the spring, and forward dashed:
As when an eagle, bird of loftiest flight,
Through the dark clouds swoops downward on the plain,
To seize some tender lamb, or cow'ring hare:
Achilles' wrath was rous'd; with fury wild
His soul was filled: . . . . .
And as amidst the stars' unnumber'd host,
When twilight yields to night, one star appears,
Hesper, the brightest star that shines in Heaven,
Gleamed the sharp-pointed lance, which Achilles
Poised, eagerly intent to see where
Hector's body least was guarded.
One chink appeared, just where the collar-bone
The neck and shoulder parts, beside the throat,
Where lies exposed the swiftest way of death.
There levelled he as Hector onward rushed;
Right through the yielding neck the lance was driven,
Prone in the dust he fell; . . . . .
And o'er him, vaunting, thus Achilles said;
"By dogs and vultures shall thy corpse be torn.
Die thou! my fate I then shall meet, whene'er
Jove and th' immortal Gods shall so decree."

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...