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PDFWest) 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 280 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. 285 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 290 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 295 Astonish’d; but the God, not so appeased, Arose against him with a darker curl,[6] 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 300 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, 305 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, 310 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 315 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 320 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. 325 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 Phoebus’ shafts Swift-wing’d, beneath the battlements of Troy. I would that Hector, noblest of his race, 330 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. 335
So spake Achilles; then, in human form,
Minerva stood and Neptune at his side; Each seized
He ended, and Achilles spear-renown’d
Plunged from the bank into the middle stream. Then, turbulent, the River all his tide 280 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. 285 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 290 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 295 Astonish’d; but the God, not so appeased, Arose against him with a darker curl,[6] 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 300 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, 305 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, 310 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 315 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 320 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. 325 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 Phoebus’ shafts Swift-wing’d, beneath the battlements of Troy. I would that Hector, noblest of his race, 330 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. 335
So spake Achilles; then, in human form,
Minerva stood and Neptune at his side; Each seized
