gods, Even they who far beneath the earth surround Old Saturn, heard our quarrel. Well it is For both of us that he, although enraged, Braved not my arm, for otherwise the strife Had not been ended without sweat. Now take The fringèd aegis in thy hands, and shake Its orb before the warrior Greeks, to fill Their hearts with fear. I give, O archer-god, Illustrious Hector to thy charge. Revive The might that dwelt within him, till the Greeks Reach, in their flight, the fleet and Hellespont; Then shall it be my care, by word and deed, To give them rest and respite from their toils.”
He spake: Apollo hearkened and obeyed His father, darting down from Ida’s height Like the fleet falcon, chaser of the dove, And swiftest of the race of birds. He found Hector, the warlike Priam’s noble son, No longer on his bed. He sat upright; The life was coming back; he knew again His friends; the heavy breathing ceased; the sweat Was stanched; the will of aegis-bearing Jove Revived the warrior’s strength. The archer-god, Phoebus, approached, and, standing by him, said:—