They were happy Spreading the sail, rushing the foam with bronze, And Sicily hardly out of sight, when Juno, Still nourishing the everlasting wound, Raged to herself: “I am beaten, I suppose; It seems I cannot keep this Trojan king From Italy. The fates, no doubt, forbid me. Pallas, of course, could burn the Argive ships, Could drown the sailors, all for one man’s guilt, The crazy acts of Ajax. Her own hand Hurled from the cloud Jove’s thunderbolt, and shattered Their ships all over the sea; she raised up storm And tempest; she spiked Ajax on the rocks, Whirled him in wind, blasted his heart with fire. And I, who walk my way as queen of the gods, Sister of Jove, and wife of Jove, keep warring With one tribe through the long, long years. Who cares For Juno’s godhead? Who brings sacrifice Devoutly to her altars?” Brooding, burning, She sought Aeolia, the storm-clouds’ dwelling, A land that sweeps and swarms with the winds’ fury, Whose monarch, Aeolus, in his deep cave rules Imperious, weighing down with bolt and prison Those boisterous struggling roarers, who go raging Around their bars, under the moan of the mountain. High over them their sceptered lord sits watching, Soothing, restraining, their passionate proud spirit, Lest, uncontrolled, they seize, in their wild keeping, The land, the sea, the arch of sky, in ruin Sweeping through space. This Jupiter feared; he hid them Deep in dark caverns, with a mass of mountain Piled over above them, and a king to give them Most certain regulation, with a knowledge When to hold in, when to let go. Him Juno Approached in supplication:--“Aeolus, Given by Jove the power to still the waters, Or raise them with a gale, a tribe I hate Is on its way to Italy, and they carry Troy with them, and their household gods, once beaten. Shake anger into those winds of yours, turn over Their ships, and drown them; drive them in all directions, Litter the sea with bodies! For such service The loveliest nymph I have, Deiopea, Shall be your bride forever, and you will father Fair children on her fairness.” Aeolus Made answer: “Yours, O Queen, the task of seeking Whatever it is you will; and mine the duty To follow with performance. All my empire, My sceptre, Jove’s indulgence, are beholden To Juno’s favor, by whose blessing I Attend the feasts of the gods and rule this storm-land.”