Note (return) — BOOK THE EIGHTH.

But her the azure-eyed goddess Minerva in turn addressed: “And beyond doubt this warrior would have lost his vigour and his life, destroyed by the hands of the Greeks in his fatherland, were it not that this my sire rages with no sound mind; cruel, ever unjust, a counteractor of my efforts. Nor does he remember aught of my services, that I have very often preserved his son, when oppressed by the labours of Eurystheus. He truly wept to heaven; but me Jove sent down from heaven to aid him. But had I known this in my prudent 282 mind, when he sent me to [the dwelling] of the gaoler Pluto to drag from Erebus the dog of hateful Pluto, he had not escaped the profound stream of the Stygian wave. But now, indeed, he hates me, and prefers the wish of Thetis, who kissed his knees, and took his beard in her hand, beseeching him to honour city-destroying Achilles, The time will be when he will again call me his dear Minerva. But do thou now harness for us thy solid-hoofed steeds, while I, having entered the palace of ægis-bearing Jove, equip myself with arms for war, that I may see whether crest-tossing Hector, the son of Priam, will rejoice at us, as I appear in the walks 283 of war. Certainly also some one of the Trojans will satiate the dogs and birds with his fat and flesh, having fallen at the ships of the Greeks.”