To whom the blue-ey’d Goddess, Pallas, thus: “Thou son of Tydeus, dearest to my soul, Fear now no more with Mars himself to fight, Nor other God; such aid will I bestow. Come then; at him the first direct thy car; Encounter with him hand to hand; nor fear To strike this madman, this incarnate curse, This shameless renegade; who late agreed With Juno and with me to combat Troy, And aid the Grecian cause; who now appears, The Greeks deserting, in the Trojan ranks.” Thus Pallas spoke, and stretching forth her hand Backward his comrade Sthenelus she drew From off the chariot; down in haste he sprang. His place beside the valiant Diomed The eager Goddess took; beneath the weight Loud groan’d the oaken axle; for the car A mighty Goddess and a Hero bore. Then Pallas took the whip and reins, and urg’d Direct at Mars the fiery coursers’ speed. The bravest of th’ Ætolians, Periphas, Ochesius’ stalwart son, he just had slain, And stood in act to strip him of his arms. The helmet then of Darkness Pallas donn’d, To hide her presence from the sight of Mars: But when the blood-stain’d God of War beheld Advancing tow’rd him godlike Diomed, The corpse of stalwart Periphas he left, There where he fell, to lie; while he himself Of valiant Diomed th’ encounter met. When near they came, first Mars his pond’rous spear Advanc’d beyond the yoke and horses’ reins, With murd’rous aim; but Pallas from the car Turn’d it aside, and foil’d the vain attempt. Then Diomed thrust forward in his turn His pond’rous spear; low on the flank of Mars, Guided by Pallas, with successful aim, Just where the belt was girt, the weapon struck: It pierc’d the flesh, and straight was back withdrawn: Then Mars cried out aloud, with such a shout As if nine thousand or ten thousand men Should simultaneous raise their battle-cry: Trojans and Greeks alike in terror heard, Trembling; so fearful was the cry of Mars. As black with clouds appears the darken’d air, When after heat the blust’ring winds arise, So Mars to valiant Diomed appear’d, As in thick clouds he took his heav’nward flight. With speed he came to great Olympus’ heights, Th’ abode of Gods; and sitting by the throne Of Saturn’s son, with anguish torn, he show’d Th’ immortal stream that trickled from the wound, And thus to Jove his piteous words address’d: