“Phoebus, why stand we idly thus aloof? The war begun by others, ’tis not meet; And shame it were, that to Olympus’ height And to the brazen-floor’d abode of Jove We two without a contest should return. Thou then begin, as younger: ’twere not well For me, in age and practice more advanc’d. Feeble of soul, how senseless is thy heart! Hast thou forgotten all the cruel wrongs We two, alone of all th’ Immortals, bore, When here, in Ilium, for a year, we serv’d, By Jove’s command, the proud Laomedon, For promis’d hire; and he our tasks assign’d? His fortress, and a wall both broad and fair I built, the town’s impregnable defence; While thou didst on his plodding herds attend, In many-crested Ida’s woody glens. But when the joyous seasons, in their course, Had brought our labour’s term, the haughty King Denied our guerdon, and with threats dismiss’d. Bound hand and foot, he threaten’d thee to send And sell to slav’ry in the distant isles, And with the sword cut off the ears of both. So in indignant sorrow we return’d, Robb’d of the hire he promis’d, but denied. For this thy favour dost thou show to Troy; And dost not rather join thy force to ours, That down upon their knees the Trojans all Should perish, with their babes and matrons chaste.” Whom answer’d thus the far-destroying King: “Earth-shaking God, I should not gain with thee The esteem of wise, if I with thee should fight For mortal men; poor wretches, who like leaves Flourish awhile, and eat the fruits of earth, But, sapless, soon decay: from combat then Refrain we, and to others leave the strife.” He turn’d, thus saying: for he deem’d it shame His father’s brother to assail in arms; But him his sister, Goddess of the chase, Rebuk’d, and thus with scornful speech address’d: “Fliest thou, Apollo? and to Neptune leav’st The easy victory and baseless fame? Why o’er thy shoulder hangs thine idle bow? Ne’er in our father’s halls again, as erst Among th’ Immortals, let me hear thee boast How thou with Neptune wouldst in arms contend.” Thus she; Apollo answer’d not a word; But Jove’s imperial consort, fill’d with wrath, Assail’d with bitter words the Archer-Queen. “How canst thou dare, thou saucy minx, to stand[7] Oppos’d to me, too great for thine assault, Despite thy bow? though Jove hath giv’n thee pow’r O’er feeble women, whom thou wilt, to slay, E’en as a lion; better were’t for thee To chase the mountain beasts and flying hinds, Than thy superiors thus to meet in arms, But since thou dar’st confront me, thou shalt know And feel how far my might surpasses thine.”