He spake; and she departed, wild with pain, For grievously she suffered. Instantly Fleet-footed Iris took her by the hand And led her from the place, her heart oppressed With anguish and her fair cheek deathly pale. She found the fiery Mars, who had withdrawn From that day’s combat to the left, and sat, His spear and his swift coursers hid from sight, In darkness. At his feet she fell, and prayed Her brother fervently, that he would lend His steeds that stood in trappings wrought of gold:⁠—

“Dear brother, aid me; let me have thy steeds To bear me to the Olympian mount, the home Of gods, for grievously the wound I bear Afflicts me. ’Twas a mortal gave the wound⁠— Tydides, who would even fight with Jove.”