Wretch! for he most sure bewail’d In after-time that grievous fault, a deed Irrevocable. On myself has Fate Laid heavy labours. But, oh friend! oh now Quick snatch the purple reins of these my steeds Rapid of hoof: the manly courage rouse Within thee: now with strong unerring grasp Guide the swift chariot’s whirl, and wind the steeds Rapid of hoof: fear nought the dismal yell Of mortal-slayer Mars, whilst to and fro He ranges fierce Apollo’s hallow’d grove With frenzying shout: for, be he as he may War-mighty, he of war shall take his fill.” Then answer’d Ioläus: “Oh revered! Doubtless the father of the gods and men Thy head delights to honour; and the god Who keeps [255]the wall of Thebes and guards her towers, [256]Bull-visaged Neptune: so be sure they give Unto thy hand this mortal huge and strong, That from the conflict thou mayst bear away High glory. But now haste—in warlike mail Dress now thy limbs, that, rapidly as thought Mingling the shock of cars, we may be join’d In battle. He th’ undaunted son of Jove Shall strike not with his terrors, nor yet me Iphiclides: but swiftly, as I deem, Shall he to flight betake him, from the race Of brave Alcæus: who now pressing nigh Gain on their foes and languish for the shout Of closing combat; to their eager ear More grateful than the banquet’s revelry.” He said: and Hercules smiled stern his joy Elate of thought: for he had spoken words Most welcome. Then with winged accents thus: “Jove-foster’d hero! it is e’en at hand, The battle’s rough encounter: thou, as erst, In martial prudence firm, aright, aleft, With vantage of the fray, unerring guide Arion huge, the sable-maned, and me Aid in the doubtful contest, as thou mayst.” Thus having said, he sheathed his legs in greaves Of mountain brass, resplendent-white: famed gift Of Vulcan: o’er his breast he fitted close The corselet, variegated, beautiful, Of shining gold; this Jove-born Pallas gave, When first he rush’d to meet the mingling groans Of battle. Then the mighty man athwart His shoulder slung the sword, whose edge repels Th’ approach of mortal harms: and clasp’d around His bosom, and reclining o’er his back, He cast the hollow quiver. Lurk’d therein Full many arrows: shuddering horror they Inflicted, and the agony of death Sudden, that chokes the suffocated voice: The points were barb’d with death, and bitter steep’d In human tears: burnish’d the lengthening shafts: And they were feather’d from the tawny plume Of eagles. Now he grasp’d the solid spear Sharpen’d with brass: and on his brows of strength Placed the forged helm, high-wrought in adamant, That cased the temples round, and fenced the head Of Hercules: the man of heavenly birth. Then with his hands he raised THE SHIELD, of disk