The hip of Anchisiades, wherein the joint doth move The thigh (’tis call’d the huckle-bone) which all in sherds it drove, Brake both the nerves, and with the edge cut all the flesh away. It stagger’d him upon his knees, and made th’ heroë stay His strook-blind temples on his hand, his elbow on the earth; And there this prince of men had died, if She that gave him birth, (Kiss’d by Anchises on the green, where his fair oxen fed) Jove’s loving daughter, instantly had not about him spread Her soft embraces, and convey’d within her heav’nly veil (Us’d as a rampire ’gainst all darts that did so hot assail) Her dear-lov’d issue from the field, Then Sthenelus in haste, Rememb’ring what his friend advis’d, from forth the prease made fast His own horse to their chariot, and presently laid hand Upon the lovely-coated horse Æneas did command. Which bringing to the wond’nng Greeks, he did their guard commend To his belov’d Deipylus, who was his inward friend, And, of his equals, one to whom he had most honour shown, That he might see them safe at fleet; then stept he to his own. With which he cheerfully made in to Tydeus’ mighty race, He, mad with his great enemy’s rape, was hot in desp’rate chace Of her that made it, with his lance, arm’d less with steel than spite, Well knowing her no Deity that had to do in fight, Minerva his great patroness, nor, She that raceth towns, Bellona, but a goddess weak, and foe to men’s renowns. Her, through a world of fight pursu’d, at last he overtook, And, thrusting up his ruthless lance, her heav’nly veil he strook (That ev’n the Graces wrought themselves, at her divine command) Quite through, and hurt the tender back of her delicious hand. The rude point piercing through her palm, forth flow’d th’ immortal blood; Blood, such as flows in blesséd Gods, that eat no human food, Nor drink of our inflaming wine, and therefore bloodless are, And call’d Immortals; out she cried, and could no longer bear Her lov’d son; whom she cast from her, and in a sable cloud Phœbus, receiving, hid him close from all the Grecian crowd, Lest some of them should find his death. Away flew Venus then, And after her cried Diomed: “Away, thou spoil of men, Though sprung from all-preserving Jove, these hot encounters leave. Is’t not enough that silly dames thy sorc’ries should deceive, Unless thou thrust into the war, and rob a soldier’s right? I think a few of these assaults will make thee fear the fight, Wherever thou shalt hear it nam’d.” She, sighing, went her way Extremely griev’d, and with her griefs her beauties did decay, And black her ivory body grew. Then from a dewy mist Brake swift-foot Iris to her aid, from all the darts that hiss’d At her quick rapture; and to Mars they took their plaintive course, And found him on the fight’s left hand, by him his speedy horse, And huge lance, lying in a fog. The Queen of all things fair Her lovéd brother, on her knees, besought, with instant pray’r,