Chapter_360

5 0 00

But Achilles the golden-haired, while in Philyra’s home yet he stayed,

Child though he were, made mighty deeds but his sport: he swayed

The short-headed dart in his hands, and, swift as the wild wind’s pinions,

Death to the lions he dealt whom he tracked through their forest-dominions.

Boars also he slew, and the pulsing bodies of boar and lion

Still would he hale to the cave of the Centaur, Zeus’s scion,

At the first when but six years old, but thereafter through all those days,

So that Artemis, yea, and Athene the dauntless beheld with amaze,