“Alas! I see a hero dear to me Pursued around the wall. My heart is grieved For Hector, who has brought so many thighs Of bullocks to my altar on the side Of Ida ploughed with glens, or on the heights Of Ilium. The renowned Achilles now Is chasing him with rapid feet around The city of Priam. Now bethink yourselves, And answer. Shall we rescue him from death? Or shall we doom him, valiant as he is, To perish by the hand of Peleus’ son?”

Minerva, blue-eyed goddess, answered thus: “O Father, who dost hurl the thunderbolt, And hide the sky in clouds, what hast thou said? Wouldst thou reprieve from death a mortal man, Whose doom is fixed? Then do it; but know this, That all the other gods will not approve.”

Then spake again the Cloud-compeller Jove: “Tritonia, my dear child, be calm. I spake Of no design. I would be kind to thee. Do as thou wilt, and be there no delay.”