Even as a black darkness appeareth from the cloudswhen after heat a blustering wind ariseth, even in such wise unto Diomedes, son of Tydeus, did brazen Ares appear, as he fared amid the clouds unto broad heaven. Speedily he came to the abode of the gods, to steep Olympus, and sate him down by the side of Zeus, son of Cronos, grieved at heart, and shewed the immortal blood flowing from the wound,and with wailing spake to him winged words: Father Zeus, hast thou no indignation to behold these violent deeds? Ever do we gods continually suffer most cruelly by one another's devices, whenas we show favour to men.With thee are we all at strife, for thou art father to that mad and baneful maid, whose mind is ever set on deeds of lawlessness. For all the other gods that are in Olympus are obedient unto thee, and subject to thee, each one of us; but to her thou payest no heed whether in word or in deed,but rather settest her on, for that this pestilent maiden is thine own child. Now hath she set on the son of Tydeus, Diomedes high of heart, to vent his rage upon immortal gods. Cypris first he wounded with a thrust in close fight upon the hand at the wrist, and thereafter rushed upon mine own self as he had been a god.Howbeit my swift feet bare me away; otherwise had I long suffered woes there amid the gruesome heaps of the dead, or else had lived strengthless by reason of the smitings of the spear. Then with an angry glance from beneath his brows spake to him Zeus, the cloud-gatherer: Sit thou not in any wise by me and whine, thou renegade.Most hateful to me art thou of all gods that hold Olympus, for ever is strife dear to thee and wars and fightings. Thou hast the unbearable, unyielding spirit of thy mother, even of Hera; her can I scarce control by my words. Wherefore it is by her promptings, meseems, that thou sufferest thus.Howbeit I will no longer endure that thou shouldest be in pain, for thou art mine offspring, and it was to me that thy mother bare thee; but wert thou born of any other god, thus pestilent as thou art, then long ere this hadst thou been lower than the sons of heaven. 261.1
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He spake, and bade Paeëon heal his hurt;and Paeëon spread thereon simples that slay pain, and healed him; for verily he was in no wise of mortal mould. Even as the juice of the fig speedily maketh to grow thick the white milk that is liquid, but is quickly curdled as a man stirreth it, even so swiftly healed he furious Ares.And Hebe bathed him, and clad him in beautiful raiment, and he sate him down by the side of Zeus, son of Cronos, exulting in his glory. Then back to the palace of great Zeus fared Argive Hera and Alalcomenean Athene, when they had made Ares, the bane of mortals, to cease from his man-slaying.
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