Phobos and Deimos, great sons of Aphrodite
and Ares who exceeds all warriors,
companion of Enyo, fierce battle-goddess,
and Eris who delights in all strife. Brothers two,
ever-present on the field of war, ever-ready
with spear and with shield, you hold fast the reins
of your father’s bright chariot, O mighty ones,
O spirits of fear. Phobos of the burning eyes,
yours it is to rout the foe, to drive them in panic
from the battleground; Deimos, yours is a subtler power,
yours is the silent chill of dread that drains the heart
of courage. I praise you, I gods; I honor your might.