immortal repute

the best of the Achaeans can't be beat
by Hektor nor his allies on the Troad
the hour they met him's their hour of defeat
however bright their zodiac had glowed
but wrath and love alike must come to naught
it's only their repute that will remain
the little triumphs Agamemnon bought
can't wash the stain of cuckold from his name
whose arrow felled Achilles in his tracks
Apollo's fingerprints are on the dart
the hero proof against all men's attacks
must die at last when he's played out his part
all trust in walls of stone or brazen gate
is compassed by the finite thread of Fate