"In form of Stentor of the brazen voice,
Whose shout was as the shout of fifty men"—
and whose name has made a familiar place for itself in our English vocabulary.
"Shame on ye, Greeks, base cowards! brave alone
In outward semblance: while Achilles yet
Went forth to battle, from the Dardan gates
The Trojans never ventured to advance."
Minerva seeks out Diomed, whom she finds leaning on his chariot, resting awhile from the fight, and
bathing the wound made by the arrow of Pandarus.
She taunts him with his inferiority to his great father Tydeus, who was, she reminds him, "small in stature, but every inch a soldier." Diomed excuses himself by reference to her own charge to him—to fight with none of the immortals save Venus only. But now the goddess withdraws the prohibition, and herself—putting on the "helmet of darkness," to hide herself from Mars—takes her place beside him in the chariot, instead of Sthenelus, his henchman and charioteer; and the chariot-axle groans beneath the more than mortal load. They drive in full career against the War-god: in vain he hurls his spear against Diomed, for the hand of the goddess turns it safely aside. The mortal champion is more successful: his spear strikes Mars in the flank, piercing the flesh, and drawing from him, as from Venus, the heavenly "ichor." And the wounded god cries out with a shout like that of ten thousand men, so that both hosts listen to the sound with awe and trembling. He too, like Venus, flies to Olympus, and there makes piteous complaint of the impious deeds which, at the instigation of Minerva, this headstrong mortal is permitted to do. His father
