Note (return) — BOOK THE TWENTY-FIRST.

“Lie there now with the fishes, 673 which, without concern, will lap the blood of thy wound; nor shall thy mother 674 weep, placing thee upon the funeral couch, but the eddying Scamander shall bear thee into the wide bosom of the ocean. Some fish, bounding through the wave, will escape to the dark ripple, 675 in order that he may devour the white fat of Lycaon. Perish [ye Trojans], till we attain to the city of sacred Ilium, you flying, and I slaughtering in the rear: nor shall the wide-flowing, silver-eddying river, profit you, to which ye have already sacrificed many bulls, and cast solid-hoofed steeds alive into its eddies. But even thus shall ye die an evil death, until ye all atone for the death of Patroclus, and the slaughter of the Greeks, whom ye have killed at the swift ships, I being absent.”