Pallas her party-colour’d robe on her bright shoulders cast, Divinely wrought with her own hands, in th’ entry of her sire. Then put she on her ample breast her under-arming tire, And on it her celestial arms. The chariot straight she takes, With her huge heavy violent lance, with which she slaughter makes Of armies fatal to her wrath. Saturnia whipp’d horse, And heav’n-gates, guarded by the Hours, op’d by their proper force. Through which they flew. Whom when Jove saw (set near the Idalian springs) Highly, displeas’d, he Iris call’d, that hath the golden wings, And said: “Fly, Iris, turn them back, let them not come at me, Our meetings, sev’rally dispos’d, will nothing gracious be. Beneath their o’erthrown chariot I’ll shiver their proud steeds, Hurl down themselves, their waggon break, and, for their stubborn deeds, In ten whole years they shall not heal the wounds I will impress With horrid thunder; that my maid may know when to address Arms ’gainst her father. For my wife, she doth not so offend. ’Tis but her use to interrupt whatever I intend.” Iris, with this, left Ida’s hills, and up t’ Olympus flew, Met near heav’n-gates the Goddesses, and thus their haste withdrew: “What course intend you? Why are you wrapp’d with your fancies’ storm? Jove likes not ye should aid the Greeks, but threats, and will perform, To crush in pieces your swift horse beneath their glorious yokes, Hurl down yourselves, your chariot break, and, those impoison’d strokes His wounding thunder shall imprint in your celestial parts, In ten full springs ye shall not cure; that She that tames proud hearts (Thyself, Minerva) may be taught to know for what, and when, Thou dost against thy father fight; for sometimes childeren May with discretion plant themselves against their fathers’ wills, But not, where humours only rule, in works beyond their skills. For Juno; she offends him not, nor vexeth him so much, For ’tis her use to cross his will, her impudence is such, The habit of offence in this she only doth contract, And so grieves or incenseth less, though ne’er the less her fact. But thou most griev’st him, doggéd dame, whom he rebukes in time, Lest silence should pervert thy will, and pride too highly climb In thy bold bosom, desp’rate girl, if seriously thou dare Lift thy unwieldy lance ’gainst Jove, as thy pretences are.” She left them, and Saturnia said: “Ah me! Thou seed of Jove, By my advice we will no more unfit convention move With Jupiter, for mortal men; of whom, let this man die, And that man live, whoever he pursues with destiny; And let him, plotting all events, dispose of either host, As he thinks fittest for them both, and may become us most.” Thus turn’d she back, and to the Hours her rich-man’d horse resign’d, Who them t’ immortal mangers bound; the chariot they inclin’d Beneath the crystal walls of heav’n; and they in golden thrones Consorted other Deities, replete with passións, Jove, in his bright-wheel’d chariot, his fi’ry horse now, beats