She then was bearing her dear son forth from out the battle; but the son of Capaneus forgat not
the commands that Diomedes good at the war-cry laid upon him. He held his own single-hooved horses away from the turmoil, binding the reins taut to the chariot rim, but rushed upon the fair-maned horses of Aeneas, and drave them forth from the Trojans into the host of the well-greaved Achaeans,
and gave them to Deïpylus his dear comrade, whom he honoured above all the companions of his youth, because he was like-minded with himself; him he bade drive them to the hollow ships. Then did the warrior mount his own car and take the bright reins, and straightway drive his stout-hooved horses in eager quest of Tydeus' son.
He the while had gone in pursuit of Cypris with his pitiless bronze, discerning that she was a weakling goddess, and not one of those that lord it in the battle of warriors,—no Athene she, nor Enyo, sacker of cities. But when he had come upon her as he pursued her through the great throng,
then the son of great-souled Tydeus thrust with his sharp spear and leapt upon her, and wounded the surface of her delicate hand, and forthwith through the ambrosial raiment that the Graces themselves had wrought for her the spear pierced the flesh upon the wrist above the palm and forth flowed the immortal blood of the goddess,
the ichor, such as floweth in the blessed gods; for they eat not bread
neither drink flaming wine, wherefore they are bloodless, and are called immortals. She then with a loud cry let fall her son, and Phoebus Apollo took him in his arms
and saved him in a dark cloud, lest any of the Danaans with swift horses might hurl a spear of bronze into his breast and take away his life. But over her shouted aloud Diomedes good at the war-cry: “Keep thee away, daughter of Zeus, from war and fighting. Sufficeth it not that thou beguilest weakling women?
But if into battle thou wilt enter, verily methinks thou shalt shudder at the name thereof, if thou hearest it even from afar.”
So spake he, and she departed frantic, and was sore distressed; and wind-footed Iris took her and led her forth from out the throng, racked with pain, and her fair flesh was darkened.
Anon she found furious Ares abiding on the left of the battle, and upon a cloud was his spear leaning, and at hand were his swift horses twain. Then she fell upon her knees and with instant prayer begged for her dear brother's horses with frontlets of gold: “Dear brother, save me, and give me thy horses,
that I may get me to Olympus, where is the abode of the immortals. For sorely am I pained with a wound which a mortal man dealt me, Tydeus' son, that would now fight even with father Zeus.”