She said: the white-arm’d Queen her word obey’d. Juno, great Goddess, royal Saturn’s child, The horses brought, with golden frontlets crown’d; While Pallas, child of aegis-bearing Jove, Within her father’s threshold dropp’d her veil Of airy texture, work of her own hands; The cuirass donn’d of cloud-compelling Jove, And stood accoutred for the bloody fray. The fiery car she mounted; in her hand A spear she bore, long, weighty, tough; wherewith The mighty daughter of a mighty sire Sweeps down the ranks of those her wrath pursues. Then Juno sharply touch’d the flying steeds; Forthwith spontaneous opening, grated harsh The heavenly portals, guarded by the Hours, Who Heav’n and high Olympus have in charge, To roll aside or close the veil of cloud; Through these th’ excited horses held their way. From Ida’s heights the son of Saturn saw, And, fill’d with wrath, the heav’nly messenger, The golden-winged Iris, thus bespoke: “Haste thee, swift Iris; turn them back, and warn That farther they advance not: ’tis not meet That they and I in war should be oppos’d. This too I say, and will make good my words: Their flying horses I will lame; themselves Dash from their car, and break their chariot-wheels; And ten revolving years heal not the wound Where strikes my lightning; so shall Pallas learn What ’tis against her father to contend. Juno less moves my wonder and my wrath; Whate’er I plan, ’tis still her wont to thwart.” Thus he: from Ida to Olympus’ height The storm-swift Iris on her errand sped. At many-ridg’d Olympus’ outer gate She met the Goddesses, and stay’d their course, And thus convey’d the sov’reign will of Jove: “Whither away? what madness fills your breasts? To give the Greeks your succour, Jove forbids; And thus he threatens, and will make it good: Your flying horses he will lame; yourselves Dash from the car, and break your chariot-wheels; And ten revolving years heal not the wounds His lightning makes: so, Pallas, shalt thou learn What ’tis against thy father to contend. Juno less moves his wonder and his wrath; Whate’er he plans, ’tis still her wont to thwart; But over-bold and void of shame art thou, If against Jove thou dare to lift thy spear.” Thus as she spoke, swift Iris disappear’d. Then Juno thus to Pallas spoke: “No more, Daughter of aegis-bearing Jove, can we For mortal men his sov’reign will resist; Live they or die, as each man’s fate may be; While he, ’twixt Greeks and Trojans, as ’tis meet, His own designs accomplishing, decides.” She said, and backward turn’d her horses’ heads. The horses from the car the Hours unyok’d, And safely tether’d in the heav’nly stalls; The car they rear’d against the inner wall, That brightly polish’d shone; the Goddesses Themselves meanwhile, amid th’ Immortals all, With, sorrowing hearts on golden seats reclin’d.