Then groaned she an angry groan that she had sped Her shafts in vain; and now with scoffing speech To her in turn the son of Peleus spake: "Woman, with what vain vauntings triumphing Hast thou come forth against us, all athirst To battle with us, who be mightier far Than earthborn heroes? We from Cronos' Son, The Thunder-roller, boast our high descent. Ay, even Hector quailed, the battle-swift, Before us, e'en though far away he saw Our onrush to grim battle. Yea, my spear Slew him, for all his might. But thou--thine heart Is utterly mad, that thou hast greatly dared To threaten us with death this day! On thee Thy latest hour shall swiftly come--is come! Thee not thy sire the War-god now shall pluck Out of mine hand, but thou the debt shalt pay Of a dark doom, as when mid mountain-folds A pricket meets a lion, waster of herds. What, woman, hast thou heard not of the heaps Of slain, that into Xanthus' rushing stream Were thrust by these mine hands?--or hast thou heard In vain, because the Blessed Ones have stol'n Wit and discretion from thee, to the end That Doom's relentless gulf might gape for thee?" He spake; he swung up in his mighty hand And sped the long spear warrior-slaying, wrought By Chiron, and above the right breast pierced The battle-eager maid. The red blood leapt Forth, as a fountain wells, and all at once Fainted the strength of Penthesileia's limbs; Dropped the great battle-axe from her nerveless hand; A mist of darkness overveiled her eyes, And anguish thrilled her soul. Yet even so Still drew she difficult breath, still dimly saw The hero, even now in act to drag Her from the swift steed's back. Confusedly She thought: "Or shall I draw my mighty sword, And bide Achilles' fiery onrush, or Hastily cast me from my fleet horse down To earth, and kneel unto this godlike man, And with wild breath promise for ransoming Great heaps of brass and gold, which pacify The hearts of victors never so athirst For blood, if haply so the murderous might Of Aeacus' son may hearken and may spare, Or peradventure may compassionate My youth, and so vouchsafe me to behold Mine home again?--for O, I long to live!"