And the old man tore his hair in his sore agony; but even he prevailed not with the soul of Hector.  And then his dear mother, Hecuba, took up the plaint and spake through her piteous tears.

“Hector! my child! have respect to the mother who bare thee and nursed thee on this bosom!  Pity me! and fight the foe from this side of the wall!  For if he slay thee, not on a funeral bed shall I, and thy dear wife, won by so many gifts, deplore thee; but the swift dogs shall devour thee, far away from us, by the black ships of the Argives.”

Thus wailed they over their glorious son, beseeching him; but they could not prevail, for honor held him fast.  Meanwhile, Achilles drew nigh, in strength like a giant; but Hector awaited him undismayed, leaning his shield against the tower.  And he communed thus with his brave soul:  “Alas, if I go through the gates, Polydamas will justly blame me; for he gave me good advice—­that I should lead the host into the city on that fatal night, when the noble Achilles returned to the war.  And I would not hearken to him, although he counseled well.  And now that I have brought this evil on the city by my folly, I am ashamed to appear before the men, and the proud dames with trailing robes, lest some one should taunt me and say, ‘Hector in his pride hath ruined us.’  Better then would it be for me to meet Achilles, and either slay him or fall with glory before the city.  Or how would it be if I should lay aside all my arms, and go to meet the son of Peleus, and offer to restore Argive Helen and all her possessions to Menelaus and Agamemnon, and to divide the wealth of Troy with the Achaians?  But no!  I might come to him unarmed, but he is merciless, and would slay me on the spot, as if I were a woman.  But why do I hesitate?  This is no time to hold dalliance with him, from oak or rock, like youths and maidens.  Better to fight at once, and see to whom Olympian Zeus will give the victory!”

While he thus pondered, Achilles, peer of Mars, came on, poising his terrible spear of Pelian ash; and his divine armor, the work of a god, blazed like fire or the rising sun.  And when Hector saw him he was seized with panic, and he fled from the gates in terror.

But Achilles, swift of foot, rushed after him.  As a falcon, swiftest of all birds, swoops upon the trembling dove, and takes no heed of her piteous screaming, so Achilles flew straight at Hector.  And pursuer and pursued passed by the guard and the wild fig-tree, the sport of the winds, and came to the two springs of water, which feed the deep-whirling Scamander.  Brave was he who fled, but mightier far was he who chased him on his swift feet; and they were racing not for some prize in the games, but for the life of the noble horse-taming Hector.  And like horses in the race for a great prize—­a tripod or a woman—­so the twain ran thrice round the sacred city of King Priam; and all the Gods were looking on.

And Zeus, the great father of Gods and men, spake first:  “Alas!  I see a man whom I love above all others chased round the walls of Troy.  Come now, let us take some counsel, whether to save him or leave him to be slain by the son of Peleus.”