And thus in turn the blue-eyed Pallas spake:⁠— “That warrior long ere this had lost his life, Slain by the Greeks on his paternal soil, But that my father’s mind is warped by wrath. Unjust to me and harsh, he thwarts my aims, Forgetting all I did for Hercules, His son⁠—how often, when Eurystheus set A task too hard for him, I saved his life. To heaven he raised his eyes and wept, and Jove Despatched me instantly to succor him. And yet if I, in my forecasting mind, Had known all this when he was bid to bring From strong-walled Erebus the dog of hell, He had not safely crossed the gulf of Styx. But now Jove hates me; now he grants the wish Of Thetis, who hath kissed his knees and touched His beard caressingly, and prayed that he Would crown the overthrower of walled towns, Achilles, with great honor. Well, the time Will come when he shall call me yet again His dear Minerva. Hasten now to yoke For us thy firm-paced steeds, while in the halls Of aegis-bearing Jupiter I brace My armor on for war⁠—and I shall see