“What words, austere Saturnius, hast thou said? Thou art, we know, invincible in might; Yet must we sorrow for the heroic Greeks, Who, by a cruel fate, are perishing. We stand aloof from war, if thou require; Yet would we counsel the Achaian host, Lest by thy wrath they perish utterly.”
And then the Cloud-compeller, answering, said:— “O Juno, large-eyed and august, if thou Look forth tomorrow, thou shalt then behold The all-powerful son of Saturn laying waste With greater havoc still the mighty host Of warlike Greeks. For Hector, great in war, Shall pause not from the conflict, till he rouse The swift-paced son of Peleus at the ships, When, pent in narrow space, the armies fight For slain Patroclus: such the will of fate. As for thyself, I little heed thy rage: Not even shouldst thou wander to the realm Where earth and ocean end, where Saturn sits Beside Iapetus, and neither light Of overgoing suns nor breath of wind Refreshes them, but gulfs of Tartarus Surround them—shouldst thou even thither bend Thy way, I shall not heed thy rage, who art Beyond all others shamelessly perverse.”
He ceased; but white-armed Juno answered not. And now into the sea the sun’s bright light Went down, and o’er the foodful earth was drawn Night’s shadow. Most unwillingly the sons Of Troy beheld the sunset. To the Greeks Eagerly wished the welcome darkness came.
Then from the fleet illustrious Hector led The Trojans, and beside the eddying stream, In a clear space uncumbered by the slain, Held council. There, alighting from their cars, They listened to the words that Hector spake— Hector, beloved of Jove. He held a spear, In length eleven cubits, with a blade Of glittering brass, bound with a ring of gold. On this he leaned, and spake these wingèd words:—
“Hear me, ye Trojans, Dardans, and allies. But now I thought that, having first destroyed The Achaian host and fleet, we should return This