Note (return) — BOOK THE FIFTEENTH.
Theodore Alois Buckley translation · Edition 4
Thus he spoke, nor was wind-footed, swift Iris disobedient: but she descended from the Idæan mountains to sacred Ilium. And as when snow drifts from the clouds, or cold hail, by the impulse of cloud-dispelling 486 Boreas, so quickly swift Iris with eagerness flew along, and standing near illustrious Neptune, she addressed him: