But while, undoubtedly, the great mass of the Grecian people believed that their divinities were real persons, who presided over the affairs of men, their philosophers, while encouraging this belief as the best adapted to the understanding of the people, took quite a different view of them, and explained the mythological legends as allegorical representations of general physical and moral truths. Thus, while Jupiter, to the vulgar mind, was the god or the upper regions, "who dwelt on the Summits of the highest mountains, gathered the clouds about him, shook the air with his thunder, and wielded the lightning as the instrument of his wrath," yet in all this he was but the symbol of the ether or atmosphere which surrounds the earth; and hence, the numerous fables of this monarch of the gods may be considered merely as "allegories which typify the great generative power of the universe, displaying itself in a variety of ways, and under the greatest diversity of forms." So, also, Apollo was, in all likelihood, originally the sun-god of the Asiatic nations; displaying all the attributes of that luminary; and because fire is "the great agent in reducing and working the metals, Vulcan, the fire-god, naturally became an artist, and is represented as working with hammer and tongs at his anvil. Thus the Greeks, instead of worshipping Nature, worshipped the Powers of Nature, as personified in the almost infinite number of their deities. The process by which the beings of Grecian mythology came into existence, among an ardent and superstitious people, is beautifully described by the poet WORDSWORTH as very naturally arising out of the Teeming Fancies of the Greek Mind. The lively Grecian, in a land of hills, Rivers, and fertile plains, and sounding shores, Under a copse of variegated sky, Could find commodious place for every god. In that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched On the soft grass through half a summer's day, With music lulled his indolent repose; And in some fit of weariness, if he, When his own breath was silent, chanced to hear A distant strain, far sweeter than the sounds Which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetch'd Even from the blazing chariot of the sun A beardless youth, who touched a golden lute, And filled the illumined groves with ravishment.