So spake she, and the goddess, white-armed Hera, failed not to hearken. She then went to and fro harnessing the horses of golden frontlets, even Hera, the queenly goddess, daughter of great Cronos; but Athene, daughter of Zeus that beareth the aegis,
let fall upon her father's floor her soft robe, richly broidered, that herself had wrought and her hands had fashioned, and put on her the tunic of Zeus the cloud-gatherer, and arrayed her in armour for tearful war. Then she stepped upon the flaming car and grasped her spear,
heavy and huge and strong, wherewith she vanquisheth the ranks of men, of warriors with whom she is wroth, she the daughter of the mighty sire. And Hera swiftly touched the horses with the lash, and self-bidden groaned upon their hinges the gates of heaven, which the Hours had in their keeping, to whom are entrusted great heaven and Olympus,
whether to throw open the thick cloud or shut it to. There through the gate they drave their horses patient of the goad.
But when father Zeus saw them from Ida he waxed wondrous wroth, and sent forth golden-winged Iris to bear a message:“Up, go, swift Iris; turn them back and suffer them not to come face to face with me,
seeing it will be in no happy wise that we shall join in combat. For thus will I speak and verily this thing shall be brought to pass. I will maim their swift horses beneath the chariot, and themselves will I hurl from out the car, and will break in pieces the chariot; nor in the space of ten circling years
shall they heal them of the wounds wherewith the thunderbolt shall smite them; that she of the flashing eyes may know what it is to strive against her own father. But against Hera have I not so great indignation nor wrath, seeing she is ever wont to thwart me in whatsoe'er I have decreed.”
So spake he, and storm-footed Iris hasted to bear his message,
and went forth from the mountains of Ida to high Olympus. And even at the entering-in of the gate of many-folded Olympus she met them and stayed them, and declared to them the saying of Zeus:“Whither are ye twain hastening? Why is it that the hearts are mad within your breasts? The son of Cronos suffereth not that ye give succour to the Argives.
For on this wise he threateneth, even as he will bring it to pass: he will maim your swift horses beneath your chariot, and yourselves will he hurl from out the car, and will break in pieces the chariot; nor in the space of ten circling years shall ye heal you of the wounds wherewith the thunderbolt shall smite you;
that thou mayest know, thou of the flashing eyes, what it is to strive against thine own father. But against Hera hath he not so great indignation nor wrath, seeing she is ever wont to thwart him in whatsoe'er he hath decreed. But most dread art thou, thou bold and shameless thing, if in good sooth thou wilt dare to raise thy mighty spear against Zeus.”