Whom answer’d thus the laughter-loving Queen; “The haughty son of Tydeus, Diomed, Hath wounded me, because my dearest son, Æneas, from the field I bore away. No more ’twixt Greeks and Trojans is the fight, But with the Gods themselves the Greeks contend.” To whom Dione, heav’nly Goddess, thus: “Have patience, dearest child; though much enforc’d, Restrain thine anger: we, in Heav’n who dwell, Have much to bear from mortals; and ourselves Too oft upon each other suff’rings lay. Mars had his suff’rings; by Aloeus’ sons, Otus and Ephialtes, strongly bound, He thirteen months in brazen fetters lay: And there had pin’d away the God of War, Insatiate Mars, had not their step-mother, The beauteous Eriboea, sought the aid Of Hermes; he by stealth releas’d the God, Sore worn and wasted by his galling chains. Juno too suffer’d, when Amphitryon’s son Through her right breast a three-barb’d arrow sent: Dire, and unheard of, were the pangs she bore. Great Pluto’s self the stinging arrow felt, When that same son of aegis-bearing Jove Assail’d him in the very gates of hell, And wrought him keenest anguish; pierc’d with pain To high Olympus, to the courts of Jove, Groaning, he came; the bitter shaft remain’d Deep in his shoulder fix’d, and griev’d his soul. But soon with soothing ointments Paeon’s hand (For death on him was powerless) heal’d the wound. Accurs’d was he, of daring over-bold, Reckless of evil deeds, who with his bow Assail’d the Gods, who on Olympus dwell. The blue-ey’d Pallas, well I know, has urg’d Tydides to assail thee; fool and blind! Unknowing he how short his term of life Who fights against the Gods! for him no child Upon his knees shall lisp a father’s name, Safe from the war and battle-field return’d. Brave as he is, let Diomed beware He meet not some more dangerous foe than thee. Then fair Ægiale, Adrastus’ child, The noble wife of valiant Diomed, Shall long, with lamentations loud, disturb The slumbers of her house, and vainly mourn Her youthful Lord, the bravest of the Greeks.” She said; and wip’d the ichor from the wound; The hand was heal’d, the grievous pains allay’d. But Juno and Minerva, looking on, With words of bitter mock’ry Saturn’s son Provok’d: and thus the blue-ey’d Goddess spoke: “O Father! may I speak without offence? Venus, it seems, has sought to lead astray Some Grecian woman, and persuade to join Those Trojans, whom she holds in high esteem; And, as her hand the gentle dame caress’d, A golden clasp has scratched her slender arm.” Thus she: and smil’d the Sire of Gods and men; He call’d the golden Venus to his side, And, “Not to thee, my child,” he said, “belong The deeds of war; do thou bestow thy care On deeds of love, and tender marriage ties; But leave to Mars and Pallas feats of arms.”