He spake: Latona gathered from the ground The bow and shafts which in that whirl of dust Had fallen here and there, and, bearing them, Followed her daughter, who meantime had reached Olympus and the brazen halls of Jove. And there, a daughter at her father’s knees, She sat her down, while, as she wept, her robe Of heavenly texture trembled. Graciously Jove smiled, and drew her toward him and inquired: “What dweller of the sky has dared do this, Dear child, as though some flagrant guilt were thine?”
And thus replied the mistress of the chase Crowned with the crescent: “Father, ’twas thy queen, The white-armed Juno; she who causes strife And wrath among the gods has done me wrong.”
So talked they, while to sacred Ilium came Phoebus Apollo; ’twas his charge to watch The well-built city’s ramparts, lest the Greeks That day should lay it waste against the will Of fate. The other gods went back to heaven, Some angry, some exulting. They sat down Beside the All-Father, him who darkens heaven With gathered clouds. Meantime Achilles chased And slew the Trojans and their firm-paced steeds. As, when the smoke rolls heavenward from a town Given by the angry gods a prey to fire, Toil is the lot of all, and bitter woe The fate of many, such the woe and toil Caused by Achilles to the sons of Troy.
The aged Priam from a lofty tower Beheld the large-limbed son of Peleus range The field, and all the Trojans helplessly Fleeing in tumult. With a cry of grief He came from that high station to the ground, And gave commandment to the sturdy men Who stood to watch the gates along the wall:—
“Hold the gates open while the flying host Enter the city; for Achilles comes, Routing them, near at hand, and we may see Terrible havoc. But when all our troops Are once within the walls, and breathe again, Shut the close-fitting portals; for I dread Lest that fierce warrior rush into our streets.”