arm to guard the warrior. Small regard Had he for the great god, and much he longed To strike Aeneas down and bear away The glorious arms he wore; and thrice he rushed To slay the Trojan, thrice Apollo smote Upon his glittering shield. But when he made The fourth assault, as if he were a god, The archer of the skies, Apollo, thus With menacing words rebuked him: “Diomed, Beware; desist, nor think to make thyself The equal of a god. The deathless race Of gods is not as those who walk the earth.”
He spake; the son of Tydeus, shrinking back, Gave way before the anger of the god Who sends his shafts afar. Then Phoebus bore Aeneas from the tumult to the height Of sacred Pergamus, where stands his fane; And there Latona and the archer-queen, Diana, in the temple’s deep recess, Tended him and brought back his glorious strength. Meantime the bowyer-god, Apollo, formed An image of Aeneas, armed like him, Round which the Trojans and Achaians thronged With many a heavy weapon-stroke that fell Upon the huge orbs