The Iliad: Book 20

But Zeus who marshals the thunderheads replied,
“God of the earthquake, well you know my plans,
the strategy in my mind, and why I call you here..."

Still, here I stay on Olympus throned aloft,
here in my steep mountain cleft, to feast my eyes
and delight my heart.

And with that command Zeus roused incessant battle.

Poseidon who grips the earth, and Hermes god of luck
who excels them all at subtle twists and tactics

So the blissful gods were rousing both opposing armies,
clashing front to front but then, in their own ranks,
their overpowering strife broke out in massive war.

And terror-struck in the underworld, Hades lord of the dead
cringed and sprang from his throne and screamed shrill,
fearing the god who rocks the ground above his realm,
giant Poseidon, would burst the earth wide open now
and lay bare to mortal men and immortal gods at last
the houses of the dead—the dank, moldering horrors
that fill the deathless gods themselves with loathing.

That is why
no mortal can fight Achilles head-to-head:
at every foray one of the gods goes with him,
beating back his death.

Hero, why not invoke the deathless gods yourself?

Now—and not for a moment let him turn you back
with his stinging proud contempt and brazen threats!

If Achilles fails
to learn all this from our own immortal voices
he will quail when a god attacks him face-to-face.

So either side of the lines they took positions,
weighing tactics, each Olympian force reluctant now
to launch out first on the wrenching horrors of war…
while Zeus on the heights sat poised to thunder orders.

Certain it is, I warn you,
we won't break off from battle and leave the field
with no more than a youngster's banter light as this.

There you have my lineage.
That is the blood I claim, my royal birth.

A man's tongue is a glib and twisty thing…
plenty of words there are, all kinds at its command—
with all the room in the world for talk to range and stray.

What do we need with wrangling, hurling insults?
Cursing each other here like a pair of nagging women
boiling over with petty, heartsick squabbles, blustering
into the streets to pelt themselves with slander,
much of it true, much not.

Achilles had thrust it forth with his strong fist,
fearing staunch Aeneas' spear with its long shadow
would drive its whole length lightly through his buckler—
groundless fears.

Why should Aeneas suffer here, for no good reason,
embroiled in the quarrels of others, not his own?

Yes, so the generation of Dardanus will not perish,
obliterated without an heir, without a trace

Otrynteus' hardy son and a chief of large contingents,
born of a river nymph to Otrynteus, scourge of towns

Whirling
he stabbed Dryops, speared him right through the neck—
he dropped at his feet and Achilles left him dead
and smashed Demuchus' knee, Philetor's strapping son