Mycenae for magnificence renown’d, 60
Argos, and Sparta.  Them, when next thy wrath
Shall be inflamed against them, lay thou waste;
I will not interpose on their behalf;
Thou shalt not hear me murmur; what avail
Complaint or force against thy matchless arm? 65
Yet were it most unmeet that even I
Should toil in vain; I also boast a birth
Celestial; Saturn deeply wise, thy Sire,
Is also mine; our origin is one. 
Thee I acknowledge Sovereign, yet account 70
Myself entitled by a twofold claim
To veneration both from Gods and men,
The daughter of Jove’s sire, and spouse of Jove. 
Concession mutual therefore both thyself
Befits and me, whom when the Gods perceive 75
Disposed to peace, they also shall accord. 
Come then.—­To yon dread field dispatch in haste
Minerva, with command that she incite
The Trojans first to violate their oath
By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks. 80
So Juno; nor the sire of all refused,
But in wing’d accents thus to Pallas spake. 
Begone; swift fly to yonder field; incite
The Trojans first to violate their oath
By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks. 85
The Goddess heard, and what she wish’d, enjoin’d,
Down-darted swift from the Olympian heights,
In form a meteor, such as from his hand
Not seldom Jove dismisses, beaming bright
And breaking into stars, an omen sent 90
To mariners, or to some numerous host. 
Such Pallas seem’d, and swift descending, dropp’d
Full in the midst between them.  They with awe
That sign portentous and with wonder view’d,
Achaians both and Trojans, and his next 95
The soldier thus bespake.  Now either war
And dire hostility again shall flame,
Or Jove now gives us peace.  Both are from Jove. 
So spake the soldiery; but she the form
Taking of brave Laodocus, the son 100
Of old Antenor, throughout all the ranks
Sought godlike Pandarus.[4] Ere long she found
The valiant son illustrious of Lycaon,
Standing encompass’d by his dauntless troops,
Broad-shielded warriors, from AEsepus’ stream 105
His followers; to his side the Goddess came,
And in wing’d accents ardent him bespake. 
Brave offspring of Lycaon, is there hope
That thou wilt hear my counsel? darest thou slip
A shaft at Menelaus? much renown 110
Thou shalt and thanks from all the Trojans win,
But most of all, from Paris, prince of Troy. 
From him illustrious gifts thou shalt receive
Doubtless, when Menelaus he shall see
The martial son of Atreus by a shaft 115
Subdued of thine, placed on his funeral pile. 
Come.  Shoot at Menelaus, glorious Chief!