Of many a youth whom, mercy none vouchsafed, Achilles had in all his current slain. And now, small distance interposed, they faced Each other, when Achilles thus began. 'Who art and whence, who dar'st encounter me? Hapless, the sires whose sons my force defy.' "To whom the noble son of Pelegon, Pelides, mighty chief. 'Why hast thou ask'd My derivation? From the land I come Of mellow-soil'd Pæonia, far remote, Chief-leader of Pæonia's host spear-arm'd; This day hath also the eleventh ris'n Since I at Troy arriv'd. For my descent, It is from Axius' river, wide-diffused, From Axius, fairest stream that waters earth, Sire of bold Pelegon, whom men report My sire. Let this suffice. Now fight, Achilles!' "So spake he threat'ning, and Achilles rais'd Dauntless the Pelian ash. At once two spears The hero bold, Asteropæus threw, With both hands apt for battle. One his shield Struck but pierced not, impeded by the gold, Gift of a God; the other as it flew Grazed his right elbow; sprang the sable blood; But, overflying him, the spear in earth Stood planted deep, still hung'ring for the prey. Then, full at the Pæonian Peleus' son Hurl'd forth his weapon with unsparing force, But vain; he struck the sloping river-bank, And mid-length deep stood plunged the ashen beam. Then, with his faulchion drawn, Achilles flew To smite him; he in vain, meantime, essay'd To pluck the rooted spear forth from the bank; Thrice with full force he shook the beam, and thrice, Although reluctant, left it; at his fourth Last effort, bending it, he sought to break The ashen spear-beam of Æacides, But perish'd by his keen-edg'd faulchion first; For on the belly, at his navel's side, He smote him; to the ground effused fell all His bowels, Death's dim shadows veil'd his eyes, Achilles ardent on his bosom fix'd His foot, despoil'd him, and exulting cried. 'Lie there; though river-sprung thou find'st it hard To cope with sons of Jove omnipotent. Thou said'st, a mighty river is my sire-- But my descent from mightier Jove I boast; My father, whom the myrmidons obey, Is son of Æacus, and he, of Jove. As Jove all streams excels that seek the sea, So, Jove's descendants nobler are than theirs. Behold a River at thy side--Let Him Afford thee, if he can, some succour--No, He may not fight against Saturnian Jove. Therefore, not kingly Achelous, Nor yet the strength of Ocean's vast profound, Although from him all rivers and all seas, All fountains, and all wells proceed, may boast Comparison with Jove, but even He