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410 escaped the notice of Hector, the shepherd of the people. Then Hector addressed the illustrious son of Peleus:

"Thou hast erred, O godlike Achilles, nor art thou yet acquainted with my fate from Jove; certainly thou didst say so, but thou art a prater, and very subtle in words, in order that, dreading thee, I may be forgetful of my strength and courage. But not in my back, while flying, shalt thou thrust thy spear, but shalt drive it through my breast, rushing right on, if God grants this to thee. But now in turn avoid my brazen spear! would that thou mightst now receive it all in thy body. Then truly would the war become lighter to the Trojans, thou being slain; for thou art the greatest bane to them."

He spoke, and, brandishing, sent forth his long-shadowed spear, and struck the center of Pelides' shield, nor missed; but the spear was repelled far away from the shield. But Hector was enraged because his swift weapon had fled in vain from his hand; and stood dejected, for he had not another ashen spear. Then he called upon the white-shielded Deïphobus, greatly shouting, [and] he asked him for a long spear; but he was not near him; and Hector perceived in his mind, and said:

"Alas! without doubt, now the gods have summoned me to death. For I indeed thought the hero Deïphobus was by my side; but he is within the wall, and Minerva has deceived me. But now is evil death near me, nor far away, neither is there escape. Certainly this long since was more agreeable to Jove and to the far-darting son of Jove, who formerly, propitious, preserved me; but now, on the contrary, Fate overtakes me. Nevertheless I will not perish cowardly and ingloriously at least, but having done some great deed to be heard of even by posterity."

Thus having spoken, he drew his sharp sword, which hung below his loins, both huge and strong, and, with collected might, rushed forward, like a lofty-soaring eagle, which swoops to the plain through the gloomy clouds, about to snatch either a tender lamb, or a timid hare; thus Hector rushed forward, brandishing his sharp sword. Achilles also rushed on, and filled his soul with fierce rage. He sheltered his breast in front with his shield, beautiful, curiously wrought, and nodded with his shining helmet, four-coned; but the