Of both of us. So we returned to heaven, Incensed at him who thus withheld the hire He promised. Dost thou favor Troy for this? Wilt thou not rather act with us until These treaty-breakers, with their children all And their chaste matrons, perish utterly?”

Then thus the archer-king, Apollo, spake: “Thou wouldst not deem me wise, should I contend With thee, O Neptune, for the sake of men, Who flourish like the forest-leaves awhile, And feed upon the fruits of earth and then Decay and perish. Let us quit the field, And leave the combat to the warring hosts.”

He spake, and turned, afraid to meet in arms His uncle; but the sylvan Dian heard⁠— His sister, mistress of the beasts that range The wilds⁠—and harshly thus upbraided him:⁠—