Note (return) — BOOK THE TWENTY-FOURTH.

Thus he spoke; but Iris, swift as the whirlwind, rose up, about to bear his message. Half way between Samos and rugged Imbrus she plunged into the dark sea, and the ocean groaned. She sank to the bottom like unto a leaden ball, 777 which, [placed] along the horn of a wild bull, entering, descends, bearing death to the raw-devouring fishes. But she found Thetis in her hollow cave, and the other sea goddesses sat around her, assembled together; she indeed, in the midst, lamented the fate of her own blameless son, who was about to perish in fertile Troy, far away from his native land. But her swift-footed Iris, standing near, addressed: