Son of Laothöe from Alta sprung,

  From Alta, whom the Leleges obey

  On Satnio's banks in lofty Pedasus.

  His daughter to his other numerous wives

  King Priam added, and two sons she bore

  Only to be deprived by thee of both.

  My brother hath already died, in front

  Of Ilium's infantry, by thy bright spear,

  The godlike Polydorus; and like doom

  Shall now be mine, for I despair to escape

  Thine hands, to which the Gods yield me again.

  But hear and mark me well. My birth was not

  From the same womb as Hector's, who hath slain

  Thy valiant friend for clemency renown'd.

  Such supplication the illustrious son

  Of Priam made, but answer harsh received.

  Fool! speak'st of ransom? Name it not to me.

  For till my friend his miserable fate

  Accomplish'd, I was somewhat given to spare,

  And numerous, whom I seized alive, I sold.

  But now, of all the Trojans whom the Gods

  Deliver to me, none shall death escape,

  'Specially of the house of Priam, none.

  Die therefore, even thou, my friend! What mean

  Thy tears unreasonably shed and vain?

  Died not Patroclus. braver far than thou?

  And look on me — see'st not to what a height

  My stature towers, and what a bulk I boast?

  A King begat me, and a Goddess bore.

  What then! A death by violence awaits

  Me also, and at morn, or eve, or noon,

  I perish, whensoe'er the destined spear

  Shall reach me, or the arrow from the nerve.

  He ceased, and where the suppliant kneel'd, he died.

  Quitting the spear, with both hands spread abroad

  He sat, but swift Achilles with his sword

  'Twixt neck and key-bone smote him, and his blade

  Of double edge sank all into the wound.

  He prone extended on the champain lay

  Bedewing with his sable blood the glebe,

  Till, by the foot, Achilles cast him far

  Into the stream, and, as he floated down,

  Thus in wing'd accents, glorying, exclaim'd.

  Lie there, and feed the fishes, which shall lick

  Thy blood secure. Thy mother ne'er shall place

  Thee on thy bier, nor on thy body weep,

  But swift Scamander on his giddy tide

  Shall bear thee to the bosom of the sea.

  There, many a fish shall through the crystal flood

  Ascending to the rippled surface, find

  Lycaon's pamper'd flesh delicious fare.

  Die Trojans! till we reach your city, you

  Fleeing, and slaughtering, I. This pleasant stream

  Of dimpling silver which ye worship oft

  With victim bulls, and sate with living steeds

  His rapid whirlpools, shall avail you nought,

  But ye shall die, die terribly, till all

  Shall have requited me with just amends

  For my Patroclus, and for other Greeks

  Slain at the ships while I declined the war.

  He ended, at those words still more incensed

  Scamander means devised, thenceforth to check

  Achilles, and avert the doom of Troy.

  Meantime the son of Peleus, his huge spear

  Grasping, assail'd Asteropæus son

  Of Pelegon, on fire to take his life.

  Fair Peribœa, daughter eldest-born

  Of Acessamenus, his father bore

  To broad-stream'd Axius, who had clasp'd the nymph

  In his embrace. On him Achilles sprang.

  He newly risen from the river, stood

  Arm'd with two lances opposite, for him

  Xanthus embolden'd, at the deaths incensed

  Of many a youth, whom, mercy none vouchsafed,

  Achilles had in all his current slain.

  And now small distance interposed, they faced

  Each other, when Achilles thus began.

  Who art and whence, who dar'st encounter me?

  Hapless the sires whose sons my force defy.

  To whom the noble son of Pelegon.

  Pelides, mighty Chief? Why hast thou ask'd

  My derivation? From the land I come

  Of mellow-soil'd Pœonia far remote,

  Chief leader of Pœnia's host spear-arm'd;

  This day hath also the eleventh risen

  Since I at Troy arrived. For my descent,

  It is from Axius river wide-diffused,

  From Axius, fairest stream that waters earth,

  Sire of bold Pelegon whom men report

  My sire. Let this suffice. Now fight, Achilles!

  So spake he threatening, and Achilles raised

  Dauntless the Pelian ash. At once two spears

  The hero bold, Asteropæus threw,

  With both hands apt for battle. One his shield

  Struck but pierced not, impeded by the gold,

  Gift of a God; the other as it flew

  Grazed at his right elbow; sprang the sable blood;

  But, overflying him, the spear in earth

  Stood planted deep, still hungering for the prey.

  Then, full at the Pœonian Peleus' son

  Hurl'd forth his weapon with unsparing force

  But vain; he struck the sloping river bank,

  And mid-length deep stood plunged the ashen beam.

  Then, with his falchion drawn, Achilles flew

  To smite him; he in vain, meantime, essay'd

  To pluck the rooted spear forth from the bank;

  Thrice with full force he shook the beam, and thrice,

  Although reluctant, left it; at his fourth

  Last effort, bending it he sought to break

  The ashen spear-beam of Æacides,

  But perish'd by his keen-edged falchion first;

  For on the belly at his navel's side

  He smote him; to the ground effused fell all

  His bowels, death's dim shadows veil'd his eyes.

  Achilles ardent on his bosom fix'd

  His foot, despoil'd him, and exulting cried.

  Lie there; though River-sprung, thou find'st it hard

  To cope with sons of Jove omnipotent.

  Thou said'st, a mighty River is my sire —

  But my descent from mightier Jove I boast;

  My father, whom the Myrmidons obey,

  Is son of Æacus, and he of Jove.

  As Jove all streams excels that seek the sea,

  So, Jove's descendants nobler are than theirs.

  Behold a River at thy side — let him

  Afford thee, if he can, some succor — No —

  He may not fight against Saturnian Jove.

  Therefore, not kingly Acheloïus,

  Nor yet the strength of Ocean's vast profound,

  Although from him all rivers and all seas,

  All fountains and all wells proceed, may boast

  Comparison with Jove, but even he

  Astonish'd trembles at his fiery bolt,

  And his dread thunders rattling in the sky.

  He said, and drawing from the bank his spear

  Asteropæus left stretch'd on the sands,

  Where, while the clear wave dash'd him, eels his flanks

  And ravening fishes numerous nibbled bare.

  The horsed Pœonians next he fierce assail'd,

  Who seeing their brave Chief slain by the sword

  And forceful arm of Peleus' son, beside

  The eddy-whirling stream fled all dispersed.

  Thersilochus and Mydon then he slew,

  Thrasius, Astypylus and Ophelestes,

  Ænius and Mnesus; nor had these sufficed

  Achilles, but Pœonians more had fallen,

  Had not the angry River from within

  His circling gulfs in semblance, of a man

  Call'd to him, interrupting thus his rage.

  Oh both in courage and injurious deeds

  Unmatch'd, Achilles! whom themselves the Gods

  Cease not to aid, if Saturn's son have doom'd

  All Ilium's race to perish by thine arm,

  Expel them, first, from me, ere thou achieve

  That dread exploit; for, cumber'd as I am

  With bodies, I can pour my pleasant stream

  No longer down into the sacred deep;

  All vanish where thou comest. But oh desist

  Dread Chief! Amazement fills me at thy deeds.

  To whom Achilles, matchless in the race.

  River divine! hereafter be it so.

  But not from slaughter of this faithless host

  I cease, till I shall shut them fast in Troy

  And trial make of Hector, if his arm

  In single fight shall strongest prove, or mine

  He said, and like a God, furious, again

  Assail'd the Trojans; then the circling flood

  To Phœbus thus his loud complaint address'd.

  Ah son of Jove, God of the silver bow!

  The mandate of the son of Saturn ill

  Hast thou perform'd, who, earnest, bade thee aid

  The Trojans, till (the sun sunk in the West)

  Night's shadow dim should veil the fruitful field.

  He ended, and Achilles spear-renown'd

  Plunged from the bank into the middle stream.

  Then, turbulent, the River all his tide

  Stirr'd from the bottom, landward heaving off

  The numerous bodies that his current chok'd

  Slain by Achilles; them, as with the roar

  Of bulls, he cast aground, but deep within

  His oozy gulfs the living safe conceal'd.

  Terrible all around Achilles stood

  The curling wave, then, falling on his shield

  Dash'd him, nor found his footsteps where to rest.

  An elm of massy trunk he seized and branch

  Luxuriant, but it fell torn from the root

  And drew the whole bank after it; immersed

  It damm'd the current with its ample boughs,

  And join'd as with a bridge the distant shores,

  Upsprang Achilles from the gulf and turn'd

  His feet, now wing'd for flight, into the plain

  Astonish'd; but the God, not so appeased,

  Arose against him with a darker curl,

  That he might quell him and deliver Troy.

  Back flew Achilles with a bound, the length

  Of a spear's cast, for such a spring he own'd

  As bears the black-plumed eagle on her prey

  Strongest and swiftest of the fowls of air.

  Like her he sprang, and dreadful on his chest

  Clang'd his bright armor. Then, with course oblique

  He fled his fierce pursuer, but the flood,

  Fly where he might, came thundering in his rear.

  As when the peasant with his spade a rill

  Conducts from some pure fountain through his grove

  Or garden, clearing the obstructed course,

  The pebbles, as it runs, all ring beneath,

  And, as the slope still deepens, swifter still

  It runs, and, murmuring, outstrips the guide,

  So him, though swift, the river always reach'd

  Still swifter; who can cope with power divine?

  Oft as the noble Chief, turning, essay'd

  Resistance, and to learn if all the Gods

  Alike rush'd after him, so oft the flood,

  Jove's offspring, laved his shoulders. Upward then

  He sprang distress'd, but with a sidelong sweep

  Assailing him, and from beneath his steps

  Wasting the soil, the Stream his force subdued.

  Then looking to the skies, aloud he mourn'd.

  Eternal Sire! forsaken by the Gods

  I sink, none deigns to save me from the flood,

  From which once saved, I would no death decline.

  Yet blame I none of all the Powers of heaven

  As Thetis; she with falsehood sooth'd my soul,

  She promised me a death by Phœbus' shafts

  Swift-wing'd, beneath the battlements of Troy.

  I would that Hector, noblest of his race,

  Had slain me, I had then bravely expired

  And a brave man had stripp'd me of my arms.

  But fate now dooms me to a death abhorr'd

  Whelm'd in deep waters, like a swine-herd's boy

  Drown'd in wet weather while he fords a brook.

  So spake Achilles; then, in human form,

  Minerva stood and Neptune at his side;

  Each seized his hand confirming him, and thus

  The mighty Shaker of the shores began.

  Achilles! moderate thy dismay, fear nought.

  In us behold, in Pallas and in me,

  Effectual aids, and with consent of Jove;

  For to be vanquish'd by a River's force

  Is not thy doom. This foe shall soon be quell'd;

  Thine eyes shall see it. Let our counsel rule

  Thy deed, and all is well. Cease not from war

  Till fast within proud Ilium's walls her host

  Again be prison'd, all who shall escape;

  Then (Hector slain) to the Achaian fleet

  Return; we make the glorious victory thine.

  So they, and both departing sought the skies.

  Then, animated by the voice divine,

  He moved toward the plain now all o'erspread

  By the vast flood on which the bodies swam

  And shields of many a youth in battle slain.

  He leap'd, he waded, and the current stemm'd

  Right onward, by the flood in vain opposed,

  With such might Pallas fill'd him. Nor his rage

  Scamander aught repress'd, but still the more

  Incensed against Achilles, curl'd aloft

  His waters, and on Simoïs call'd aloud.

  Brother! oh let us with united force

  Check, if we may, this warrior; he shall else

  Soon lay the lofty towers of Priam low,

  Whose host appall'd, defend them now no more.

  Haste — succor me — thy channel fill with streams

  From all thy fountains; call thy torrents down;

  Lift high the waters; mingle trees and stones

  With uproar wild, that we may quell the force

  Of this dread Chief triumphant now, and fill'd

  With projects that might more beseem a God.

  But vain shall be his strength, his beauty nought

  Shall profit him or his resplendent arms,

  For I will bury them in slime and ooze,

  And I will overwhelm himself with soil,

  Sands heaping o'er him and around him sands

  Infinite, that no Greek shall find his bones

  For ever, in my bottom deep immersed.

  There shall his tomb be piled, nor other earth,

  At his last rites, his friends shall need for him.

  He said, and lifting high his angry tide

  Vortiginous, against Achilles hurl'd,

  Roaring, the foam, the bodies, and the blood;

  Then all his sable waves divine again

  Accumulating, bore him swift along.

  Shriek'd Juno at that sight, terrified lest

  Achilles in the whirling deluge sunk

  Should perish, and to Vulcan quick exclaim'd.

  Vulcan, my son, arise; for we account

  Xanthus well able to contend with thee.

  Give instant succor; show forth all thy fires.

  Myself will haste to call the rapid South

  And Zephyrus, that tempests from the sea

  Blowing, thou may'st both arms and dead consume

  With hideous conflagration. Burn along

  The banks of Xanthus, fire his trees and him

  Seize also. Let him by no specious guile

  Of flattery soothe thee, or by threats appall,

  Nor slack thy furious fires 'till with a shout

  I give command, then bid them cease to blaze.

  She spake, and Vulcan at her word his fires

  Shot dreadful forth; first, kindling on the field,

  He burn'd the bodies strew'd numerous around

  Slain by Achilles; arid grew the earth

  And the flood ceased. As when a sprightly breeze

  Autumnal blowing from the North, at once

  Dries the new-water'd garden, gladdening him

  Who tills the soil, so was the champain dried;

  The dead consumed, against the River, next,

  He turn'd the fierceness of his glittering fires.

  Willows and tamarisks and elms he burn'd,

  Burn'd lotus, rushes, reeds; all plants and herbs

  That clothed profuse the margin of his flood.

  His eels and fishes, whether wont to dwell

  In gulfs beneath, or tumble in the stream,

  All languish'd while the artist of the skies

  Breath'd on them; even Xanthus lost, himself,

  All force, and, suppliant, Vulcan thus address'd.

  Oh Vulcan! none in heaven itself may cope

  With thee. I yield to thy consuming fires.

  Cease, cease. I reck not if Achilles drive

  Her citizens, this moment, forth from Troy,

  For what are war and war's concerns to me?

  So spake he scorch'd, and all his waters boil'd.

  As some huge caldron hisses urged by force

  Of circling fires and fill'd with melted lard,

  The unctuous fluid overbubbling streams

  On all sides, while the dry wood flames beneath,

  So Xanthus bubbled and his pleasant flood

  Hiss'd in the fire, nor could he longer flow

  But check'd his current, with hot steams annoy'd

  By Vulcan raised. His supplication, then,

  Importunate to Juno thus he turn'd.

  Ah Juno! why assails thy son my streams,

  Hostile to me alone? Of all who aid

  The Trojans I am surely least to blame,

  Yet even I desist if thou command;

  And let thy son cease also; for I swear

  That never will I from the Trojans turn

  Their evil day, not even when the host

  Of Greece shall set all Ilium in a blaze.

  He said, and by his oath pacified, thus

  The white-arm'd Deity to Vulcan spake.

  Peace, glorious son! we may not in behalf

  Of mortal man thus longer vex a God.

  Then Vulcan his tremendous fires repress'd,

  And down into his gulfy channel rush'd

  The refluent flood; for when the force was once

  Subdued of Xanthus, Juno interposed,