heap I scorn to fall-- What if they pass'd me to the Trojan wall, While I decline to yonder path, that leads To Ida's forests and surrounding shades? So may I reach, conceal'd, the cooling flood, From my tired body wash the dirt and blood, As soon as night her dusky veil extends, Return in safety to my Trojan friends. What if?--But wherefore all this vain debate? Stand I to doubt, within the reach of fate? Even now perhaps, ere yet I turn the wall, The fierce Achilles sees me, and I fall: Such is his swiftness, 'tis in vain to fly, And such his valour, that who stands must die. Howe'er 'tis better, fighting for the state, Here, and in public view, to meet my fate. Yet sure he too is mortal; he may feel (Like all the sons of earth) the force of steel. One only soul informs that dreadful frame: And Jove's sole favour gives him all his fame." He said, and stood, collected, in his might; And all his beating bosom claim'd the fight. So from some deep-grown wood a panther starts, Roused from his thicket by a storm of darts: Untaught to fear or fly, he hears the sounds Of shouting hunters, and of clamorous hounds; Though struck, though wounded, scarce perceives the pain; And the barb'd javelin stings his breast in vain: On their whole war, untamed, the savage flies; And tears his hunter, or beneath him dies. Not less resolved, Antenor's valiant heir Confronts Achilles, and awaits the war, Disdainful of retreat: high held before, His shield (a broad circumference) he bore; Then graceful as he stood, in act to throw The lifted javelin, thus bespoke the foe: "How proud Achilles glories in his fame! And hopes this day to sink the Trojan name Beneath her ruins! Know, that hope is vain; A thousand woes, a thousand toils remain. Parents and children our just arms employ, And strong and many are the sons of Troy. Great as thou art, even thou may'st stain with gore These Phrygian fields, and pr