“O famed for glorious deeds, and great by blood, Rest here,” says he, “nor trust the rapid flood; It solid oaks has from its margin tore, And rocky fragments down its current bore, The murmur hoarse, and terrible the roar. Oft have I seen herds, with their shelt’ring fold, Forced from the banks, and in the torrent roll’d; Nor strength the bulky steer from ruin freed, Nor matchless swiftness saved the racing steed; In cataracts, when the dissolving snow Falls from the hills and floods the plains below, Tossed by the eddies, with a giddy round, Strong youths are in the sucking whirlpools drown’d: ’Tis best with me in safety to abide, Till usual bounds restrain the ebbing tide, And the low waters in their channel glide.”

Theseus, persuaded, in compliance bow’d: “So kind an offer, and advice so good, O Achelous! cannot be refused; I’ll use them both,” said he; and both he used