On went the goddesses, with step as light As timid doves, and hastened toward the field To aid the Achaian army. When they came Where fought the bravest warriors in a throng Around the great horse-tamer Diomed, Like ravenous lions or wild boars whose rage Is terrible, the white-armed goddess stood, And called aloud—for now she wore the form Of gallant Stentor, in whose brazen voice Was heard a shout like that of fifty men:—
“Shame on you, Argives—wretches, who in form, And form alone, are heroes. While we yet Had great Achilles in the war, the men Of Ilium dared not pass beyond their gates, So much they feared his mighty spear; but now They push the battle to our hollow ships, Far from the town.” As thus the goddess spake, New strength and courage woke in every breast.
Then blue-eyed Pallas hastened to the son Of Tydeus. By his steeds she found the king, And by his chariot, as he cooled the wound Made by the shaft of Pandarus. The sweat Beneath the ample band of his round shield Had weakened him, and weary was his arm. He raised the band, and from the wounded limb Wiped off the clotted blood. The goddess laid Her hand upon the chariot-yoke, and said:—
“Tydeus hath left a son unlike himself; For he, though low in stature, was most brave; And when he went, an envoy and alone, To Thebes, the populous Cadmean town, And I, enjoining him to keep aloof From wars and rash encounters, bade him sit Quietly at the feasts in palace-halls, Still, to his valiant temper true, he gave Challenges to the Theban youths, and won The prize with ease in all their games, such aid I gave him. Now I stand by thee in turn, Protect thee, and exhort thee manfully To fight against the Trojans; but today Either the weariness of toil unnerves Thy frame, or withering fear besets thy heart. Henceforth we cannot deem thee, as of late, The offspring of Oenides skilled in war.”