He spake, and Achilles, famed for his spear, sprang from the bank and leapt into his midst; but the River rushed upon him with surging flood, and roused all his streams tumultuously, and swept along the many dead that lay thick within his bed, slain by Achilles; these lie cast forth to the land, bellowing the while like a bull, and the living he saved under his fair streams, hiding them in eddies deep and wide. In terrible wise about Achilles towered the tumultuous wave, and the stream as it beat upon his shield thrust him backward, nor might he avail to stand firm upon his feet. Then grasped he an elm, shapely and tall, but it fell uprooted and tore away all the bank, and stretched over the fair streams with its thick branches, and dammed the River himself, falling all within him; but Achilles, springing forth from the eddy hasted to fly with swift feet over the plain, for he was seized with fear. Howbeit the great god ceased not, but rushed upon him with dark-crested wave, that he might stay goodly Achilles from his labour, and ward off ruin from the Trojans.
But the son of Peleus rushed back as far as a spear-cast with the swoop of a black eagle, the mighty hunter, that is alike the strongest and swiftest of winged things; like him he darted, and upon his breast the bronze rang terribly, while he swerved from beneath the flood and fled ever onward, and the River followed after, flowing with a mighty roar. As when a man that guideth its flow leadeth from a dusky spring a stream of water amid his plants and garden-lots a mattock in his hands and cleareth away the dams from the channel— and as it floweth all the pebbles beneath are swept along therewith, and it glideth swiftly onward with murmuring sound down a sloping place and outstrippeth even him that guideth it;—even thus did the flood of the River ever overtake Achilles for all he was fleet of foot; for the gods are mightier than men. And oft as swift-footed, goodly Achilles strove to make stand against him and to learn if all the immortals that hold broad heaven were driving him in rout, so often would the great flood of the heaven-fed River beat upon his shoulders from above; and he would spring on high with his feet in vexation of spirit, and the River was ever tiring his knees with its violent flow beneath, and was snatching away the ground from under his feet.
Then the son of Peleus uttered a bitter cry, with a look at the broad heaven: Father Zeus, how is it that no one of the gods taketh it upon him in my pitiless plight to save me from out the River! thereafter let come upon me what may. None other of the heavenly gods do I blame so much, but only my dear mother, that beguiled me with false words, saying that beneath the wall of the mail-clad Trojans I should perish by the swift missiles of Apollo. Would that Hector had slain me, the best of the men bred here; then had a brave man been the slayer, and a brave man had he slain. But now by a miserable death was it appointed me to be cut off, pent in the great river, like a swine-herd boy whom a torrent sweepeth away as he maketh essay to cross it in winter. So spake he, and forthwith Poseidon and Pallas Athene drew nigh and stood by his side, being likened in form to mortal men, and they clasped his hand in theirs and pledged him in words.
And among them Poseidon, the Shaker of Earth, was first to speak: Son of Peleus, tremble not thou overmuch, neither be anywise afraid, such helpers twain are we from the gods— and Zeus approveth thereof —even I and Pallas Athene. Therefore is it not thy doom to be vanquished by a river; nay, he shall soon give respite, and thou of thyself shalt know it. But we will give thee wise counsel, if so be thou wilt hearken. Make not thine hands to cease from evil battle until within the famed walls of Ilios thou hast pent the Trojan host, whosoever escapeth. But for thyself, when thou hast bereft Hector of life, come thou back to the ships; lo, we grant thee to win glory. When the twain had thus spoken, they departed to the immortals, but he went on toward the plain, or mightily did the bidding of the gods arouse him; and the whole plain was filled with a flood of water, and many goodly arms and corpses of youths slain in battle were floating there. But on high leapt his knees, as he rushed straight on against the flood, nor might the wide-flowing River stay him; for Athene put in him great strength.
Nor yet would Scamander abate his fury, but was even more wroth against the son of Peleus, and raising himself on high he made the surge of his flood into a crest, and he called with a shout to Simois: Dear brother, the might of this man let us stay, though it need the two of us, seeing presently he will lay waste the great city of king Priam, neither will the Trojans abide him in battle. Nay, bear thou aid with speed, and fill thy streams with water from thy springs, and arouse all thy torrents; raise thou a great wave, and stir thou a mighty din of tree-trunks and stones, that we may check this fierce man that now prevaileth, and is minded to vie even with the gods. For I deem that his strength shall naught avail him, neither anywise his comeliness, nor yet that goodly armour, which, I ween, deep beneath the mere shall lie covered over with slime; and himself will I enwrap in sands and shed over him great store of shingle past all measuring; nor shall the Achaeans know where to gather his bones, with such a depth of silt shall I enshroud him. Even here shall be his sepulchre, nor shall he have need of a heaped-up mound, when the Achaeans make his funeral. He spake, and rushed tumultuously upon Achilles, raging on high and seething with foam and blood and dead men.
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