And then the Cloud-compeller, answering, said:⁠— “O Juno, large-eyed and august, if thou Look forth tomorrow, thou shalt then behold The all-powerful son of Saturn laying waste With greater havoc still the mighty host Of warlike Greeks. For Hector, great in war, Shall pause not from the conflict, till he rouse The swift-paced son of Peleus at the ships, When, pent in narrow space, the armies fight For slain Patroclus: such the will of fate. As for thyself, I little heed thy rage: Not even shouldst thou wander to the realm Where earth and ocean end, where Saturn sits Beside Iapetus, and neither light Of overgoing suns nor breath of wind Refreshes them, but gulfs of Tartarus Surround them⁠—shouldst thou even thither bend Thy way, I shall not heed thy rage, who art Beyond all others shamelessly perverse.”