But Poseidon, his brother, and second only to Zeus himself in power, was a staunch ally of the Greeks, and was bitterly indignant that they should suffer defeat at the hands of the hated and despised Trojans. As long as the eye of Zeus was on the battlefield he dared not interfere; but as soon as he saw his great brother engaged elsewhere he left his seat on the island of Samothrace, where he had been overlooking the battle, and sped on his way to Ægæ, his sacred city on the shores of the Gulf of Corinth. The mountains bowed their heads, and the trees vailed[1] their high tops, beneath the immortal feet of Poseidon, the King. In three steps he reached his goal, and entered his shining, golden palace, built in the cool depths of that glassy bay. There he bade harness his brazen-footed steeds, and mounting the car drove it across the waters. The charmed billows parted to make him a path, and round him played the dolphins, and other huge children of the deep, as his wheels passed unwetted over that heaving, liquid floor. So on they bounded, until they reached the shores of Troy. [1] "_Vailing_ [stooping] her high top lower than her ribs."--Shakespeare: _Merchant of Venice_. The Greeks were still flying before the victorious Trojans, who pressed them hard, with furious uproar, when suddenly there appeared among them one like unto Calchas, the prophet, in form and in voice. "Take heart, comrades!" said he, addressing himself to Ajax, who, with his namesake, was still heading the defence; "we shall beat them yet, if only we can quench the fury of that madman, Hector, who bears himself like a son of Zeus. Have at them, and thrust them back from the ships!" His words were common, but they were uttered by a god, and breathed a mysterious influence, which was aided by a light touch from the staff which he bore. Instantly a strange lightness and vigour entered into their limbs, and when the pretended Calchas vanished as abruptly as he came, they knew that the words which they had heard were spoken by no mortal lips. Without pausing for a moment, Poseidon continued the work which he had begun. From rank to rank, from leader to leader, he flew, inspiring, encouraging, entreating; and wherever he passed a new fire was kindled in every breast, so that they who but a moment before had given up all for lost now thought with shame of their faintheartedness, and rallied to the call of their leaders, resolved to conquer or die.