He spake; and all the great assembly, hushed In silence, wondered at his threatening words, Until at length the blue-eyed Pallas said:⁠—

“Our Father, son of Saturn, mightiest as Among the potentates, we know thy power Is not to be withstood, yet are we moved With pity for the warlike Greeks, who bear An evil fate and waste away in war. If such be thy command, we shall refrain From mingling in the combat, yet will aid The Greeks with counsel which may be their guide, Lest by thy wrath they perish utterly.”

The Cloud-compeller Jove replied, and smiled:⁠— “Tritonia, daughter dear, be comforted. I spake not in the anger of my heart, And I have naught but kind intents for thee.”