The rage of Peleus’ son, as thus he spake, Grew fiercer; in that shaggy breast his heart Took counsel, whether from his thigh to draw The trenchant sword, and, thrusting back the rest, Smite down Atrides, or subdue his wrath And master his own spirit. While he thus Debated with himself, and half unsheathed The ponderous blade, Pallas Athene came, Sent from on high by Juno, the white-armèd, Who loved both warriors and made both her care. She came behind him, seen by him alone, And plucked his yellow hair. The hero turned In wonder, and at once he knew the look Of Pallas and the awful-gleaming eye, And thus accosted her with wingèd words:⁠— “Why com’st thou hither, daughter of the god Who bears the aegis? Art thou here to see The insolence of Agamemnon, son Of Atreus? Let me tell thee what I deem Will be the event. That man may lose his life, And quickly too, for arrogance like this.”