Now will I rouse the Danai, and prove
The force in fight of many a Trojan more. 

    He said, and sprang to battle with loud voice,

Calling the Grecians after him.—­Ye sons 430
Of the Achaians! stand not now aloof,
My noble friends! but foot to foot let each
Fall on courageous, and desire the fight. 
The task were difficult for me alone,
Brave as I boast myself, to chase a foe 435
So numerous, and to combat with them all. 
Not Mars himself, immortal though he be,
Nor Pallas, could with all the ranks contend
Of this vast multitude, and drive the whole. 
With hands, with feet, with spirit and with might, 440
All that I can I will; right through I go,
And not a Trojan who shall chance within
Spear’s reach of me, shall, as I judge, rejoice. 

    Thus he the Greeks exhorted.  Opposite,

Meantime, illustrious Hector to his host 445
Vociferated, his design to oppose
Achilles publishing in every ear. 

    Fear not, ye valiant men of Troy! fear not

The son of Peleus.  In a war of words
I could, myself, cope even with the Gods; 450
But not with spears; there they excel us all. 
Nor shall Achilles full performance give
To all his vaunts, but, if he some fulfil,
Shall others leave mutilate in the midst. 
I will encounter him, though his hands be fire, 455
Though fire his hands, and his heart hammer’d steel. 

    So spake he them exhorting.  At his word

Uprose the Trojan spears, thick intermixt
The battle join’d, and clamor loud began. 
Then thus, approaching Hector, Phoebus spake. 460

    Henceforth, advance not Hector! in the front

Seeking Achilles, but retired within
The stormy multitude his coming wait,
Lest his spear reach thee, or his glittering sword. 

    He said, and Hector far into his host 465

Withdrew, admonish’d by the voice divine. 
Then, shouting terrible, and clothed with might,
Achilles sprang to battle.  First, he slew
The valiant Chief Iphition, whom a band
Numerous obey’d.  Otrynteus was his sire. 470
Him to Otrynteus, city-waster Chief,
A Naiad under snowy Tmolus bore
In fruitful Hyda.[9] Right into his front
As he advanced, Achilles drove his spear,
And rived his skull; with thundering sound he fell, 475
And thus the conqueror gloried in his fall. 

    Ah Otryntides! thou art slain.  Here lies

The terrible in arms, who born beside
The broad Gygaean lake, where Hyllus flows
And Hermus, call’d the fertile soil his own. 480

    Thus gloried he.  Meantime the shades of death

Cover’d Iphition, and Achaian wheels
And horses ground his body in the van.