But when he chanced upon a fresh troop of the enemy, who were astray near the river, he forgot the river god’s decree, and when they all jumped into the stream to gain the opposite shore he plunged in after them. Then the invisible god arose in his might, determined to destroy him. He sent wave after wave breaking over him and drew him deeper and deeper down. Struggle as he might he could make no headway against the mighty stream on whose waves he rose and fell, almost losing his balance and being carried away. The bodies of the slain bore against him and he could scarcely hold them back with his shield. He struggled to the shore, but the angry god stirred up a foaming surf which threw him back again. Almost exhausted he struggled forward once more and grasped a young elm whose branches hung over the stream; but just as he was about to swing himself up by it the roots gave way, so that it lay across the river like a bridge. Upon this the hero reached the bank, although he vainly hoped to escape the river god thus. Furiously Scamander followed him across the fallow fields with breaking waves. He also called to his aid the other streams who generally dash their waters from the mountain heights to destroy the farmer’s fields only in springtime. To the Simoïs, which joins him just before he flows into the sea, he cried: “Come, brother, and help me stem the power of this terrible man, else he will batter down the walls of Priam’s fortress to-day; for none can withstand him. Arise, friend, let thy floods loose; roll down rocks and stones with thundering waves upon him, that we may tame him. For I ween that neither his strength nor beauty nor his resplendent weapons shall save him. They shall be buried deep in mud, and him will I cover with sand and heap a monument of shells and pebbles over him so high that none shall ever find his bones.” The hero was almost overcome and in his despair cried aloud: “Father Jupiter, not a single one of the gods will take pity on me, and I thought ye all loved me! But none has deceived me more than my divine mother, who promised me the glorious death of a hero before Troy. And now, alas, an ignoble end awaits me, and I shall be drowned as ignominiously as any swineherd in a mud puddle.” Then from afar a solemn and consoling voice arose. “Be comforted, Peleus’ son, thou shalt not die in the waters. Keep up the struggle until the Trojans have fled the field. But when Hector is vanquished thou shalt return.”