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PDF150 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.
155 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[4]
His rapid whirlpools, shall avail you nought,
160 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 165
Scamander means devised, thenceforth to check Achilles, and avert the doom of Troy. Meantime the son of Peleus, his huge spear Grasping, assail’d Asteropaeus son Of Pelegon, on fire to take his life. 170 Fair Periboea, 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 175 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 180 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 185 My derivation? From the land I come Of mellow-soil’d Poeonia far remote, Chief leader of Poenia’s host spear-arm’d; This day hath also the eleventh risen Since I at Troy arrived. For my descent, 190 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 195
Dauntless the Pelian ash. At once two spears The hero bold, Asteropaeus 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 200 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 Poeonian Peleus’ son Hurl’d forth his weapon with unsparing force 205 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; 210 Thrice with full force he shook the beam, and thrice, Although reluctant, left it; at his fourth Last effort, bending it he sought to
He ended, at those words still more incensed 165
Scamander means devised, thenceforth to check Achilles, and avert the doom of Troy. Meantime the son of Peleus, his huge spear Grasping, assail’d Asteropaeus son Of Pelegon, on fire to take his life. 170 Fair Periboea, 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 175 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 180 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 185 My derivation? From the land I come Of mellow-soil’d Poeonia far remote, Chief leader of Poenia’s host spear-arm’d; This day hath also the eleventh risen Since I at Troy arrived. For my descent, 190 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 195
Dauntless the Pelian ash. At once two spears The hero bold, Asteropaeus 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 200 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 Poeonian Peleus’ son Hurl’d forth his weapon with unsparing force 205 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; 210 Thrice with full force he shook the beam, and thrice, Although reluctant, left it; at his fourth Last effort, bending it he sought to
