The men seem well inclined to the new ruling powers, and many apply at once to be furnished with wings. But the state of things in the celestial regions soon gets so intolerable, owing to the stoppage of all communication with earth and its good things, that certain barbarian deities, the gods of Thrace, who are--as an Athenian audience would readily understand--of a very carnal and ill-mannered type, break out into open rebellion, and threaten mutiny against the supremacy of Jupiter, unless he can come to some terms with this new intermediate power. Information of this movement is brought by Prometheus--here, as in the tragedians, the friend of man and the enemy of Jupiter--who comes secretly to Peisthetærus (getting under an umbrella, that Jupiter may not see him) and advises him on no account to come to any terms with that potentate which do not include the transfer into his possession of the fair Basileia (sovereignty), who rules the household of Olympus, and is the impersonation of all good things that can be desired. In due time an embassy from the gods in general arrives at the new city, sent to treat with the Birds. The Commissioners are three: Neptune, Hercules (whose appetite for good things was notorious, and who would be a principal sufferer by the cutting off the supplies), and a Thracian god--a Triballian--who talks very bad Greek indeed, and who has succeeded in some way in getting himself named on the embassy, to the considerable disgust of Neptune, who has much trouble in making him look at all respectable and presentable. “_Nep._ There’s Nephelococcugia! that’s the town, The point we’re bound to with our embassy. (_Turning to the Triballian._) But you! what a figure have ye made yourself! What a way to wear a mantle! slouching off From the left shoulder! Hitch it round, I tell ye, On the right side. For shame--come--so; that’s better; These folds, too, bundled up; there, throw them round Even and easy,--so. Why, you’re a savage, A natural-born savage.--Oh, democracy! What will it bring us to, when such a ruffian Is voted into an embassy! _Trib._ (_to Neptune, who is pulling his dress about_). Come, hands off, Hands off! _Nep._ Keep quiet, I tell ye, and hold your tongue, For a very beast! in all my life in heaven, I never saw such another. Hercules, I say, what shall we do? What should you think? _Her._ What would I do? what do I think? I’ve told you Already--I think to throttle him--the fellow, Whoever he is, that’s keeping us blockaded. _Nep._ Yes, my good friend; but we were sent, you know, To treat for a peace. Our embassy is for peace. _Her._ That makes no difference; or if it does, It makes me long to throttle him all the more.”--(F.)