“Poor things, why did I give you to King Pêleus, a mortal, you who never age nor die, to let you ache with men in their hard lot? Of all creatures that breathe and move on earth 500 none is more to be pitied than a man. Never at least shall Hektor, son of Priam, ride behind you in your painted car. That I will not allow. Is it not enough that he both has the gear and brags about it? I shall put fire in your knees and hearts to rescue Automédôn, bear him away from battle to the decked ships. Glory of killing, even so, I reserve to his enemies until they reach the ships, until sundown, 510 until
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Zeus is again thinkong of killing Hektor.
