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Cronus’ son has trapped me in madness, blinding ruin – Zeus is a harsh, cruel god. He vowed to me long ago, he bowed his head that I should never embark for home till I had brought the walls of Ilium crashing down. But now, I see, he only plotted brutal treachery: now he commands me back to Argos in disgrace, whole regiments of my men destroyed in battle. Now with the squadrons marshaled, captains leading each, the Trojans came with cries and the din of war like wildfowl when the long hoarse cries of cranes sweep on against the sky and the great formations flee from winter’s grim ungodly storms, flying in force, shrieking south to the Ocean gulfs, speeding blood and death to the Pygmy warriors, launching at daybreak savage battle down upon their heads. But Achaea’s armies came on strong in silence, breathing combat-fury, hearts ablaze to defend each other to the death. "Down from the skies I come to check your rage if only you will yield. The white-armed goddess Hera sped me down: she loves you both, she cares for you both alike. Stop this fighting, now. Don’t lay hand to sword. Lash him with threats of the price that he will face