by Homer
Of deeply-flowing, wide Oceanus;
From whom all rivers, all the boundless sea,
All fountains, all deep wells derive their source;
Yet him appals the lightning bolt of Jove,
And thunder, pealing from the vault of Heav'n."
He said, and from the cliff withdrew his spear.
Him left he lifeless there upon the sand
Extended; o'er him the dark waters wash'd,
And eels and fishes, thronging, gnaw'd his flesh.
Then 'mid the Paeons' plumed host he rush'd,
Who fled along the eddying stream, when him,
Their bravest in the stubborn fight, they saw
Slain by the sword and arm of Peleus' son.
Thersilochus and Mydon then he slew,
Mnesus and Thrasius and Astypylus,
AEnius and Ophelestes; and yet more
Had been the slaughter by Achilles wrought,
But from his eddying depths, in human form,
With wrathful tone the mighty River spoke:
"In strength, Achilles, and in deeds of arms,
All mortals thou surpassest; for the Gods
Themselves attend thee, and protect from harm;
If Saturn's son have given thee utterly
The Trojans to destroy, yet, ere thou slay,
Far from my waters drive them o'er the plain;
For now my lovely stream is fill'd with dead;
Nor can I pour my current to the sea,
With floating corpses chok'd, whilst thou pursuest
The work of death, insatiate: stay thy hand!
With horror I behold thee, mighty chief!"
Whom answer'd thus Achilles, swift of foot:
"Be it as thou wilt, Scamander, Heav'n-born stream;
Yet cease I not to slay until I drive
These vaunting Trojans to their walls, and prove
The force of Hector, if, in single fight,
I be by him, or he by me, subdued."
He said, and fiercely on the Trojans rush'd,
A God in might! to Phoebus then his speech
The deeply-eddying River thus address'd:
"God of the silver bow, great son of Jove,
Obey'st thou thus the will of Saturn's son,
Who charg'd thee by the Trojans still to stand,
And aid their cause, till ev'ning's late approach
Should cast its shadows o'er the fertile earth?"
Thus as he spoke, from off the lofty bank
Achilles springing in mid current plung'd;
Then high the swelling stream, tumultuous, rose
In all its angry flood; and with a roar
As of a bellowing bull, cast forth to land
The num'rous corpses by Achilles slain;
And many living, in his cavern'd bed,
Conceal'd behind the whirling waters sav'd.
Fierce, round Achilles, rose the boiling wave,
And on his shield descending, drove him down;
Nor might he keep his foothold; but he grasp'd
A lofty elm, well-grown, which from the cliff
Uprooted, all the bank had torn away,
And with its tangled branches check'd the flow
Of the fair river, which with all its length
It bridg'd across; then, springing from the deep,
Swiftly he fled in terror o'er the plain.
Nor ceas'd the mighty River, but pursued,
With darkly-ruffling crest, intent to stay
Achilles' course, and save the Trojan host.
Far as a jav'lin's flight he rush'd, in speed
Like the dark hunter eagle, strongest deem'd,
And swiftest wing'd of all the feather'd race.
So on he sped; loud rattled on his breast
His brazen armour, as before the God,
Cow'ring, he fled; the God behind him still
With thund'ring sound pursued. As when a man
From some dark-water'd spring through trenches leads,
'Mid plants and gardens, th' irrigating stream,
And, spade in hand, th' appointed channel clears:
Down flows the stream anon, its pebbly bed
Disturbing; fast it flows with bubbling sound,
Down the steep slope, o'ertaking him who leads.
Achilles so th' advancing wave o'ertook,
Though great his speed; but man must yield to Gods,
Oft as Achilles, swift of foot, essay'd
To turn and stand, and know if all the Gods,
Who dwell in Heav'n, were leagued to daunt his soul
So oft the Heav'n-born River's mighty wave
Above his shoulders dash'd; in deep distress
He sprang on high; then rush'd the flood below,
And bore him off his legs, and wore away
The soil beneath his feet; then, groaning, thus,
As up to Heav'n he look'd, Achilles cried:
"O Father Jove, will none of all the Gods
In pity save me from this angry flood?
Content, thereafter, would I meet my fate.
Of all the pow'rs of Heav'n, my mother most
Hath wrong'd me, who hath buoy'd me up with hope
Delusive, that, before the walls of Troy,
I should by Phoebus' swift-wing'd arrows fall.
Would that by Hector's hand 'twere mine to die,
The bravest of their brave! a warrior so
Were by a warrior slain! now am I doom'd
Ignobly here to sink, the mighty flood
O'erwhelming me, like some poor shepherd lad,
Borne down in crossing by a wintry brook."
He said; and quickly, cloth'd in mortal form,
Neptune and Pallas at his side appear'd;
With cheering words they took him by the hand,
And thus th' Earth-shaking God his speech began:
"Achilles, fear not thou, nor be dismay'd;
Such pow'rful aid, by Jove's consent, we bring,
Pallas and I, from Heav'n; 'tis not decreed
That thou shouldst by the River be o'erwhelm'd;
He shall retire ere long, and thou shalt see;
And more, if thou wilt hear, we undertake
That from the war thine arm shall not be stay'd,
Till thou shalt drive beneath the walls of Troy
The crowd of flying Trojans; thou thyself
Shalt Hector slay, and safe regain the ships:
Such high renown we give thee to achieve."
They to the other Gods, this said, return'd;
He, greatly strengthen'd by the voice divine,
Press'd onwards to the plain; the plain he found
All flooded o'er; and, floating, armour fair,
And many a corpse of men in battle slain;
Yet onward, lifting high his feet, he press'd
Right tow'rd the stream; nor could the mighty stream
Check his advance, such vigour Pallas gave;
Nor did Scamander yet his fury stay,
But fiercer rose his rage; and rearing high
His crested wave, to Simois thus he cried:
"Dear brother, aid me with united force
This mortal's course to check; he, unrestrain'd,
Will royal Priam's city soon destroy,
Nor will the Trojans his assault endure.
Haste to the rescue then, and from their source
Fill all thy stream, and all thy channels swell;
Rouse thy big waves, and roll a torrent down
Of logs and stones, to whelm this man of might,
Who triumphs now, and bears him as a God.
Nought shall his strength or beauty then avail,
Or gallant arms, beneath the waters sunk,
Deep buried in the mud: himself will I
In sand imbed, and o'er his corpse a pile
Of shingly gravel heap; nor shall the Greeks
Be able to collect his bones, encas'd
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By me so deep in slime. His monument
They here may raise; but when they celebrate
His fun'ral rites, no mound will he require."
He said; and on Achilles, from on high
Came boiling, rushing down, with thund'ring roar,
With foam and blood and corpses intermix'd.
High rose the Heav'n-born River's darkling wave,
And bore Achilles downward; then in fear
Lest the broad waters of the eddying stream
Should quite o'erwhelm him, Juno cried aloud,
And Vulcan thus, her son, in haste address'd:
"Up, Vulcan; up, my son; for we had deem'd
That eddying Xanthus stood to thee oppos'd:
Haste thee to aid; thy fiery strength display;
While from the sea I call the stormy blast
Of Zephyr and brisk Notus, who shall drive
The raging flames ahead, and burn alike
The Trojans and their arms: do thou the while
Burn down the trees on Xanthus' banks; himself
Assail with fire, nor by his honey'd words
Nor by his menaces be turn'd aside;
Nor, till thou hear my voice, restrain thy pow'r;
Then stay the raging flames' unwearied course."
Thus Juno spoke; and Vulcan straight prepar'd
The heav'nly fire; and first upon the plain
The flames he kindled, and the dead consum'd,
Who lay, promiscuous, by Achilles slain:
The plain was dried, and stay'd the wat'ry flood.
As when the breath of Boreas quickly dries
In Autumn-time a newly-water'd field,
The tiller's heart rejoicing: so was dried
The spacious plain; then he, the dead consum'd,
Against the river turn'd the fiery glare:
Burnt were the willows, elms, and tamarisk shrubs,
The lotus, and the reeds, and galingal,
Which by the lovely river grew profuse.
The eels and fishes, 'mid the eddying whirl,
'Mid the clear wave were hurrying here and there,
In dire distress from Vulcan's fiery breath:
Scorch'd by the flames, the mighty River spoke:
"Vulcan, no God against thy pow'r can stand,
Nor with thy fiery flames will I contend;
Restrain thy wrath; though Peleus' godlike son
Should from their city drive the Trojans straight,
With rival parties what concern have I?"
All scorch'd he spoke; his fair stream bubbling up,
As when a caldron on a blazing fire,
Fill'd with the melting fat of well-fed swine,
Boils up within, and bubbles all around,
With well-dried wood beneath, so bubbling up
The waters of the lovely River boil'd:
Nor onward would he flow, but check'd his course,
By the hot blast o'er-borne, and fiery strength
Of skilful Vulcan; and to Juno thus,
Imploring, he his winged words address'd:
"Juno, what cause impels thy son, my stream,
O'er all the rest, to visit with his wrath?
E'en less than others who the Trojans aid,
Have I offended; yet at thy command
Will I withdraw; but bid that he too cease;
And this I swear, no Trojan more to save,
Though to devouring flames a prey, all Troy
Were blazing, kindled by the valiant Greeks."
This when the white-arm'd Goddess Juno heard,
To Vulcan straight she thus address'd her speech:
"Vulcan, my glorious son, restrain thy hand:
In mortal men's behalf, it is not meet
To press thus hardly an Immortal God."
She said, and Vulcan stay'd his fiery strength,
And, back returning, in his wonted bed
Flow'd the fair River. Xanthus thus subdued,
These two their warfare ceas'd, by Juno check'd,
Despite her wrath; but 'mid the other Gods
Arose contention fierce, and discord dire,
Their warring passions rous'd on either side.
With fearful crash they met: the broad Earth groan'd;
Loud rang the Heav'n as with a trumpet's sound:
Jove, on Olympus' height, the tumult heard,
And in his heart he laugh'd a joyous laugh,
To see the Gods in angry battle met.
Not long they stood aloof, led on by Mars
The buckler-breaker, who to Pallas first,
Poising his spear, his bitter speech address'd:
"What dost thou here, thou saucy jade, to war
The Gods exciting, overbold of mood,
Led by thy haughty spirit? dost thou forget
How thou the son of Tydeus, Diomed,
Didst urge against me, and with visible spear
Direct his aim, and aid to wound my flesh?
For all I suffer'd then, thou now shalt pay."
Thus as he spoke, he struck the tassell'd shield,
Awful to view, which not the lightning bolt
Of Jove himself could pierce: the blood-stain'd Mars
Against it thrust in vain his pond'rous spear.
The Goddess stoop'd, and in her ample hand
Took up a stone, that lay upon the plain,
Dark, rugged, vast, which men of elder days
Had set to mark the limits of their land.
Full on the neck of Mars she hurl'd the mass,
His limbs relaxing: o'er sev'n hundred feet
Prostrate he lay, his hair defil'd with dust:
Loud rang his armour; and with scornful smile
Pallas address'd him thus with vaunting speech:
"Fool, hast thou yet to learn how mightier far
My strength than thine, that me thou dar'st to meet?
Bear thus the burthen of thy mother's curse,
Who works thee harm, in wrath that thou the Greeks
Deserting, aid'st the haughty Trojans' cause."
She said, and turn'd away her piercing glance:
Him, deeply groaning, scarce to life restor'd,
Jove's daughter Venus taking by the hand,
Led from the field; which when the white-arm'd Queen
Beheld, in haste to Pallas thus she cried:
"O Heav'n, brave child of aegis-bearing Jove,
Undaunted! lo again this saucy jade
Amid the press, the bane of mortals, Mars
Leads from the field; but haste thee in pursuit."
Thus Juno: Pallas hasten'd in pursuit
Well pleas'd; and Venus with her pow'rful hand
Assailing, struck upon the breast; at once
The Goddess' courage and her limbs gave way.
There on the ground the two together lay,
While Pallas o'er them thus with vaunting speech:
"Would all were such, who aid the Trojan cause,
Whene'er they meet in fight the warlike Greeks,
As valiant and as stout as Venus proves,
Who brings her aid to Mars, confronting me;
Then had our warlike labours long been o'er,
And Ilium's strong-built citadel overthrown."
Thus Pallas spoke: the white-arm'd Goddess smil'd,
And to Apollo thus th' Earth-shaker spoke:
"Phoebus, why stand we idly thus aloof?
The war begun by others, 'tis not meet;
And shame it were, that to Olympus' height
And to the brazen-floor'd abode of Jove
We two without a contest should return.
Thou then begin, as younger: 'twere not well
For me, in age and practice more advanc'd.
Feeble of soul, how senseless is thy heart!
Hast thou forgotten all the cruel wrongs
We two, alone of all th' Immortals, bore,
When here, in Ilium, for a year, we se
rv'd,
By Jove's command, the proud Laomedon,
For promis'd hire; and he our tasks assign'd?
His fortress, and a wall both broad and fair
I built, the town's impregnable defence;
While thou didst on his plodding herds attend,
In many-crested Ida's woody glens.
But when the joyous seasons, in their course,
Had brought our labour's term, the haughty King
Denied our guerdon, and with threats dismiss'd.
Bound hand and foot, he threaten'd thee to send
And sell to slav'ry in the distant isles,
And with the sword cut off the ears of both.
So in indignant sorrow we return'd,
Robb'd of the hire he promis'd, but denied.
For this thy favour dost thou show to Troy;
And dost not rather join thy force to ours,
That down upon their knees the Trojans all
Should perish, with their babes and matrons chaste."
Whom answer'd thus the far-destroying King:
"Earth-shaking God, I should not gain with thee
The esteem of wise, if I with thee should fight
For mortal men; poor wretches, who like leaves
Flourish awhile, and eat the fruits of earth,
But, sapless, soon decay: from combat then
Refrain we, and to others leave the strife."
He turn'd, thus saying: for he deem'd it shame
His father's brother to assail in arms;
But him his sister, Goddess of the chase,
Rebuk'd, and thus with scornful speech address'd:
"Fliest thou, Apollo? and to Neptune leav'st
The easy victory and baseless fame?
Why o'er thy shoulder hangs thine idle bow?
Ne'er in our father's halls again, as erst
Among th' Immortals, let me hear thee boast
How thou with Neptune wouldst in arms contend."
Thus she; Apollo answer'd not a word;
But Jove's imperial consort, fill'd with wrath,
Assail'd with bitter words the Archer-Queen.
"How canst thou dare, thou saucy minx, to stand
Oppos'd to me, too great for thine assault,
Despite thy bow? though Jove hath giv'n thee pow'r
O'er feeble women, whom thou wilt, to slay,
E'en as a lion; better were't for thee
To chase the mountain beasts and flying hinds,
Than thy superiors thus to meet in arms,
But since thou dar'st confront me, thou shalt know
And feel how far my might surpasses thine."
She said; and with the left hand both the wrists
Of Dian grasping, with her ample right
The bow and quiver from her shoulders tore;
And with them, as she turn'd away her head,
With scornful laughter buffeted her ears: