Ere long, on swiftly-rolling chariot borne, Jove to Olympus, to th’ abode of Gods, From Ida’s height return’d: th’ earth-shaking God, Neptune, unyok’d his steeds; and on the stand Secur’d the car, and spread the cov’ring o’er. Then on his golden throne all-seeing Jove Sat down; beneath his feet Olympus shook. Juno and Pallas only sat aloof; No word they utter’d, no enquiry made. Jove knew their thoughts, and thus address’d them both: “Pallas and Juno, wherefore sit ye thus In angry silence? In the glorious fight No lengthen’d toil have ye sustain’d, to slay The Trojans, whom your deadly hate pursues. Not all the Gods that on Olympus dwell Could turn me from my purpose, such my might, And such the pow’r of my resistless hand; But ye were struck with terror ere ye saw The battle-field, and fearful deeds of war. But this I say, and bear it in your minds, Had I my lightning launch’d, and from your car Had hurl’d ye down, ye ne’er had reach’d again Olympus’ height, th’ immortal Gods’ abode.” So spoke the God; but, seated side by side, Juno and Pallas glances interchang’d Of ill portent for Troy; Pallas indeed Sat silent, and, though inly wroth with Jove, Yet answer’d not a word; but Juno’s breast Could not contain her rage, and thus she spoke: “What words, dread son of Saturn, dost thou speak? Well do we know thy pow’r invincible, Yet deeply grieve we for the warlike Greeks, Condemn’d to hopeless ruin: from the fight, Since such is thy command, we stand aloof; But yet some saving counsel may we give, Lest in thine anger thou destroy them quite.” To whom the Cloud-compeller thus replied: “Yet greater slaughter, stag-ey’d Queen of Heav’n, To-morrow shalt thou see, if so thou list, Wrought on the warrior Greeks by Saturn’s son; For Hector’s proud career shall not be check’d Until the wrath of Peleus’ godlike son Beside the ships be kindled, in the day When round Patroclus’ corpse, in narrow space, E’en by the vessels’ sterns, the war shall rage. Such is the voice of destiny: for thee, I reck not of thy wrath; nor should I care Though thou wert thrust beneath the lowest deep Of earth and ocean, where Iapetus And Saturn lie, uncheer’d by ray of sun Or breath of air, in Tartarus profound. Though there thou wert to banishment consign’d, I should not heed, but thy reproaches hear Unmov’d; for viler thing is none than thou.” He said, but white-arm’d Juno answer’d not. The sun, now sunk beneath the ocean wave, Drew o’er the teeming earth the veil of night. The Trojans saw, reluctant, day’s decline; But on the Greeks thrice welcome, thrice invoked With earnest prayers, the shades of darkness fell.