e now, fill all thy streams and rouse thy torrents
against him, and lift up against him a mighty wave with a great concourse
of tree-trunks and stones, that we may stay this wild man from his
fighting. Very high thoughts hath he, even as a god; yet shall neither his
might nor his beauty nor his fair form profit him; for they shall be
covered with much mud; and over himself will I heap abundance of sand
beyond all counting. Neither shall the Greeks be able to gather his bones
together, with such a heap will I hide them. Surely a great tomb will I
build for him; nor will his people have need to make a mound over him when
they would bury him."

Then he rushed again upon Achilles, swelling high with foam and blood and
dead bodies of men. Very dark was the wave as it rose, and was like to
have overwhelmed the man, so that Juno greatly feared for him, lest the
River should sweep him away. And she cried to Vulcan, her son, saying,
"Rouse thee, Haltfoot, my son! I thought that thou wouldst have been a
match for Scamander in battle. But come, help us, and bring much fire with
thee; and I will call the west wind and the south wind from the sea, with
such a storm as shall consume the sons of Troy, both them and their arms.
And do thou burn the trees that are by the banks of Xanthus, yea, and the
River himself. And let him not turn thee from thy purpose by fury or by
craft; but burn till I shall bid thee cease."

Then Vulcan lit a great fire. First he burned the dead bodies that lay
upon the plain, and it dried all the plain, as the north wind in the
autumn time dries a field, to the joy of him that tills it. After this it
laid hold of the River. The lime-trees and the willows and the tamarisks
it burned; also the plants that grew in the streams. And the eels and the
fishes were sore distressed, twisting hither and thither in the water,
being troubled by the breath of Vulcan. So the might of the River was
subdued, and he cried aloud, "O Vulcan, no one of the Gods can match
himself with thee. Cease now from consuming me; and Achilles may drive the
men of Troy from their city if he will. What have I to do with the strife
and sorrow of men?"

So he spake, for all his streams were boiling--as a cauldron boils with a
great fire beneath it, when a man would melt the fat of a great hog; nor
could he flow any longer to the sea, so sorely did the breath of the
Fire-god trouble him. Then he cried aloud to Juno, entreating her: "O
Juno, why