spring he own'd 300
As bears the black-plumed eagle on her prey
Strongest and swiftest of the fowls of air.
Like her he sprang, and dreadful on his chest
Clang'd his bright armor. Then, with course oblique
He fled his fierce pursuer, but the flood, 305
Fly where he might, came thundering in his rear.
As when the peasant with his spade a rill
Conducts from some pure fountain through his grove
Or garden, clearing the obstructed course,
The pebbles, as it runs, all ring beneath, 310
And, as the slope still deepens, swifter still
It runs, and, murmuring, outstrips the guide,
So him, though swift, the river always reach'd
Still swifter; who can cope with power divine?
Oft as the noble Chief, turning, essay'd 315
Resistance, and to learn if all the Gods
Alike rush'd after him, so oft the flood,
Jove's offspring, laved his shoulders. Upward then
He sprang distress'd, but with a sidelong sweep
Assailing him, and from beneath his steps 320
Wasting the soil, the Stream his force subdued.
Then looking to the skies, aloud he mourn'd.
Eternal Sire! forsaken by the Gods
I sink, none deigns to save me from the flood,
From which once saved, I would no death decline. 325
Yet blame I none of all the Powers of heaven
As Thetis; she with falsehood sooth'd my soul,
She promised me a death by Phoebus' shafts
Swift-wing'd, beneath the battlements of Troy.
I would that Hector, noblest of his race, 330
Had slain me, I had then bravely expired
And a brave man had stripp'd me of my arms.
But fate now dooms me to a death abhorr'd
Whelm'd in deep waters, like a swine-herd's boy
Drown'd in wet weather while he fords a brook. 335
So spake Achilles; then, in human form,
Minerva stood and Neptune at his side;
Each seized his hand confirming him, and thus
The mighty Shaker of the shores began.
Achilles! moderate thy dismay, fear nought. 340
In us behold, in Pallas and in me,
Effectual aids, and with consent of Jove;
For to be vanquish'd by a River's force
Is not thy doom. This foe shall soon be quell'd;
Thine eyes shall see it. Let our counsel rule 345
Thy deed, and all is well. Cease not from war
Till fast within proud Ilium's walls her host
Again be prison'd,