Threat’ning he spoke: Achilles rais’d on high The Pelian spear; but, ambidexter, he From either hand at once a jav’lin launch’d. One struck, but pierc’d not through, the mighty shield, Stay’d by the golden plate, the gift of Heav’n; Achilles’ right fore-arm the other graz’d: Forth gush’d the crimson blood; but, glancing by And vainly longing for the taste of flesh, The point behind him in the earth was fix’d. Then at Asteropaeus in his turn With deadly intent the son of Peleus threw His straight-directed spear; his mark he miss’d, But struck the lofty bank, where, deep infix’d To half its length, the Pelian ash remain’d. Then from beside his thigh Achilles drew His trenchant blade, and, furious, onward rush’d; While from the cliff Asteropaeus strove In vain, with stalwart hand, to wrench the spear. Three times he shook it with impetuous force, Three times relax’d his grasp; a fourth attempt He made to bend and break the sturdy shaft; But him, preventing, Peleus’ godlike son With deadly stroke across the belly smote, And gush’d his bowels forth; upon the ground Gasping he lay, and darkness seal’d his eyes. Then on his breast Achilles sprang, and stripp’d His armour off, and thus with vaunting speech: “So lie thou there! ’tis hard for thee to fight, Though river-born, against the progeny Of mighty Jove; a widely-flowing stream Thou claim’st as author of thy parentage; My high descent from Jove himself I boast. My father Peleus, son of Æacus, Reigns o’er the num’rous race of Myrmidons; The son of Jove himself was Æacus. High o’er all rivers, that to th’ ocean flow, Is Jove exalted; and in like degree Superior is his race in pow’r to theirs. A mighty River hast thou here at hand, If that might aught avail thee; but his pow’r Is impotent to strive with Saturn’s son. With him, not Achelous, King of streams, Presumes to vie; nor e’en the mighty strength 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, Ænius 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: