I was born to Pelegon. And now, Illustrious son of Peleus, let us fight.”
He spake: Achilles raised the Pelian ash To smite; Asteropaeus aimed at him Both lances, for he used both hands alike. One struck the Grecian’s shield, yet passed not through, Stopped by the god-given gold; the other gashed Lightly the elbow of his dexter arm; The black blood spouted forth, the spear passed on Beyond him, and, still eager for its prey, Stood fixed in earth. Achilles then, intent To slay Asteropaeus, hurled at him His trusty spear. The weapon missed its mark, And, striking the high bank, was buried there Up to the middle of its ashen staff. Achilles drew the keen sword from his thigh, And flew with fury toward his foe, who toiled In vain with sinewy arm to pluck that spear From out the bank; and thrice he shook the beam Fiercely, and thrice desisted, lacking strength, And last he sought, by bending it, to break The ashen weapon of Aeacides. But ere it snapped Achilles took his life, Smiting him at the navel with the sword. Forth gushed the entrails to the ground, and o’er His dying eyes the darkness came; and then Achilles, leaping on his breast, tore off The armor, and exultingly exclaimed:—