The illustrious son of Priam ended here His prayer, and heard a merciless reply:—
“Fool! Never talk of ransom—not a word. Before the evil day on which my friend Was slain, it pleased me oftentimes to spare The Trojans. Many a one I took alive And sold; but now no man of all their race, Whom any god may bring within my reach, Shall leave the field alive, and least of all The sons of Priam. Die thou, then; and why Shouldst thou, my friend, lament? Patroclus died, And greatly he excelled thee. Seest thou not How eminent in stature and in form Am I, whom to a prince renowned for worth A goddess mother bore; yet will there come To me a violent death at morn, at eve, Or at the midday hour, whenever he Whose weapon is to take my life shall cast The spear or send an arrow from the string.”
He spake: the Trojan’s heart and knees grew faint; His hand let go the spear; he sat and cowered With outstretched arms. Achilles drew his sword, And smote his neck just at the collar-bone; The two-edged blade was buried deep. He fell Prone on the earth; the black blood spouted forth And steeped the soil. Achilles by the foot Flung him to float among the river-waves, And uttered, boastfully, these wingèd words:—
“Lie there among the fishes, who shall feed Upon thy blood unscared. No mother there Shall weep thee lying on thy bier; thy corpse Scamander shall bear down to the broad sea, Where, as he sees thee darkening its face, Some fish shall hasten, darting through the waves, To feed upon Lycaon’s fair white limbs. So perish ye, till sacred Troy be ours, You fleeing, while I follow close and slay. This river cannot aid you—this fair stream With silver eddies, to whose deity Ye offer many beeves in sacrifice, And fling into its gulfs your firm-paced steeds; But thus ye all shall perish, till I take Full vengeance for Patroclus of the Greeks, Whom, while I stood aloof from war, ye slew.”
He spake: and, deeply moved with inward wrath, The River pondered how to render vain The prowess of Achilles, and avert Destruction from