To whom thus Juno with deceitful speech: “What words, dread son of Saturn, dost thou speak? If here on Ida, in the face of day, We celebrate the mystic rites of love. How if some other of th’ immortal Gods Should find us sleeping, and ’mid all the Gods Should spread the tale abroad? I could not then Straight to thy house, for very shame, return. But if indeed such passion fill thy soul, Thou hast thy secret chamber, built for thee By Vulcan, with close-fitting doors secur’d; Thither, if such thy pleasure, go we now.” To whom the Cloud-compeller thus replied: “Juno, nor fear the eye of God or man; For all around us I will throw such veil Of golden cloud, that not the sun himself With sharpest beam of light may pierce it through.” Thus saying, in his arms he clasp’d his wife; The teeming earth beneath them caus’d to spring The tender grass, and lotus dew-besprent, Crocus and hyacinth, a fragrant couch, Profuse and soft, upspringing from the earth. There lay they, all around them spread a veil Of golden cloud, whence heav’nly dews distill’d. There on the topmost height of Gargarus, By sleep and love subdued, th’ immortal Sire, Clasp’d in his arms his wife, repos’d in peace. Then Sleep arose, and to the Grecian ships In haste repairing, to th’ Earth-shaking King His tidings bore; and standing at his side Thus to the God his winged words address’d: “Now, Neptune, to the Greeks thy ready aid Afford, that short-liv’d triumph they may gain, While slumber holds the eyes of Jove; for I In sweet unconsciousness have drown’d his sense, Beguil’d by Juno, in whose arms he lies.” He said, and vanish’d ’mid the tribes of men: But fir’d with keener zeal to aid the Greeks, Neptune sprang forth in front, and call’d aloud: “Again, ye Greeks, shall our remissness yield The victory to Hector, Priam’s son, To seize our ships, and endless glory gain? Such is his boast and menace, since in wrath Achilles still beside his ships remains. Yet him we scarce should miss, if we, the rest, But firmly stood for mutual defence. Hear then my counsel: let us all agree, Girt with our best and broadest shields, our heads With flashing helmets guarded, in our hands Grasping our longest spears, to dare the fight. Myself will lead you on; and Priam’s son, Though bold he be, will fear with me to cope. And if, among our bravest, any bear Too small a buckler, with some meaner man Let him exchange, and don the larger shield.” He said, and they assenting heard his speech. The Kings themselves, Ulysses, Diomed, And mighty Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, Though sorely wounded, yet the troops array’d; Thro’out the ranks they pass’d, and chang’d the arms; The bravest donn’d the best, the worse the worst. When with their dazzling armour all were girt, Forward they mov’d; th’ Earth-shaker led them on: In his broad hand an awful sword he bore, Long-bladed, vivid as the lightning’s flash: Yet in the deadly strife he might not join, But kindled terror in the minds of men.