But when Bellerophon upon himself Had drawn the anger of the gods, he roamed The Alcian fields alone, a prey to thoughts That wasted him, and shunning every haunt Of humankind. The god whose lust of strife Is never sated, Mars, cut off his son Isandrus, warring with the illustrious race Of Solymi; and Dian, she who guides Her car with golden reins, in anger slew His daughter. I am of Hippolochus; From him I claim my birth. He sent me forth To Troy with many counsels and commands, Ever to bear myself like a brave man, And labor to excel, and never bring Dishonor on the stock from which I sprang⁠— The bravest stock by far in Ephyra And the wide realm of Lycia. ’Tis my boast To be of such a race and such a blood.”

He spake. The warlike Diomed was glad, And, planting in the foodful earth his spear, Addressed the people’s shepherd blandly thus:⁠—