And his heart grew strong within him, to stay and fight.  And he cried out aloud to Achilles, “Surely, thou thinkest this very day to sack the proud city of Troy?  Fool! many terrible things will happen before that; for there are many of us—­many and brave—­to protect our dear parents and wives and little children, and to guard holy Ilium.  Thou, too, perhaps, mighty as thou art, mayest here meet death.”

He spake and hurled a spear at Achilles with his strong hand.  And it smote him below the knee, and the tin-wrought greave rang loudly; but the stout spear bounded off, for it could not pierce the work of Vulcan.

Then Achilles rushed on godlike Agenor; but him Apollo caught in a mist, and carried him safely out of the fray.  And the god took the form of Agenor, and ran a little way before Achilles, towards the deep-flowing Scamander.  And while Apollo thus deceived the mighty son of Peleus, the routed Trojans ran, well pleased, to their stronghold, and the great city was filled with their multitude.

Then as he ran before Achilles, the mighty Far-Darter addressed him, and spake:  “O son of Peleus! why dost thou, being a mortal man, pursue me with thy swift feet, who am a deathless god?” Then, in wrath, the son of Peleus answered him:  “Thou hast blinded me, most mischievous of all the Gods! and lured me away from the walls; else would many a Trojan have fallen, or ever he had reached the city.”  He then went towards the city, with a proud heart, like a war-horse victorious in a chariot race; and the aged Priam saw him, blazing like the star in autumn brightest of all, which men call “Orion’s Dog,” that bringeth fever upon wretched mortals.

And the old man cried aloud, in his agony, and beat his head with his fists, and called in a piercing voice to his dear son Hector.  For the brave hero, when all the others had escaped into the city, remained alone at the Scaean Gate eager to fight with Achilles.  And his wretched father stretched forth his withered hands, and pleaded piteously to his son:—­

“Hector! dear Hector! do not meet this terrible man alone, for he is far mightier than thou, and knoweth no pity.  Already hath he robbed me of many a brave son; and now I no longer see two of my children, Lycaon and the goodly Polydorus, whom Laothoe, princess among women, bare to me.  But the death of others will cause us briefer grief, if thou, dear Hector, art not slain.  Come, then, within the walls, and save the men and women of Troy!  And have pity on me, too, to whom the son of Cronos hath allotted a terrible doom in my old age—­to see my brave sons dragged away, and my fair daughters carried off, as captives, by the cruel hands of the Achaians.  Last of all, I too shall be torn, on my own threshold, by ravenous dogs—­even the dogs which I myself have reared with food from my table, to guard my house.  They will tear my flesh and drink my blood!  It may well become a young man to lie slain on the field, for he is highly honored in his death; but when dogs defile an old man’s head and beard, this is the most lamentable thing that befalleth wretched mortals.”