Then spake in turn the god who shakes the shores:— “O goddess Iris, thou hast wisely said. An excellent thing it is when messengers Know how to counsel well. But in my heart And soul a wrathful sense of injury Arises when he chides with insolent words Me, who was equal with him in my lot, And born to equal destinies. Yet now, Although offended, I give way; but this I tell thee, and ’tis from my heart—if he, In spite of me and Pallas, spoiler-queen, And Juno, Mercury, and Vulcan, spare The towers of Troy—if he refuse to bring Ruin on her, and glory on the Greeks, Then let him know that hatred without end Or intermission is between us two.”
As thus he spake, the shaker of the shores Quitted the Grecian army, took his way Seaward, and plunged into the deep. The host Perceived their loss. Then Cloud-compelling Jove Turned to Apollo and addressed him thus:—
“Now go at once to Hector, mailed in brass, Beloved Phoebus, for the god who shakes The earth, departing to the ocean-deeps, Avoids our wrath; else had the other