And he set on his head the golden helmet of fourfold plume
Flaming like to the world-encompassing sun’s red gleam,
When first in the dawning he leapeth up from the Ocean-stream.
He uplifted his manifold-plated shield, and he grasped in his hand {1230}
His terrible spear and resistless: was none that before it might stand
Of the rest of the heroes, since Herakles now they had left afar:
He only against it had matched his might in the shock of war.
And his fair-fashioned chariot of fleet-footed steeds was stayed for the king
By Phaethon hard by; then to the chariot-floor did he spring;
And he drew through his fingers the reins, and forth of the city-gate