Up to Olympus, and aspir’d the Gods’ eternal seats. Great Neptune loos’d his horse, his car upon the altar plac’d, And heav’nly-linen coverings did round about it cast. The Far-seer us’d his throne of gold. The vast Olympus shook Beneath his feet. His wife, and maid, apart places took, Nor any word afforded him. He knew their thoughts, and said: “Why do you thus torment yourselves? You need not sit dismay’d With the long labours you have us’d in your victorious fight, Destroying Trojans, ’gainst whose lives you heap such high despite. Ye should have held your glorious course; for, be assur’d, as far As all my pow’rs, by all means urg’d, could have sustain’d the war, Not all the host of Deities should have retir’d my hand From vow’d inflictions on the Greeks, much less you two withstand. But you, before you saw the fight, much less the slaughter there, Had all your goodly lineaments possess’d with shaking fear, And never had your chariot borne their charge to heav’n again, But thunder should have smit you both, had you one Trojan slain.” Both Goddesses let fall their chins upon their ivory breasts, Set next to Jove, contriving still afflicted Troy’s unrests. Pallas for anger could not speak; Saturnia, contrary, Could not for anger hold her peace, but made this bold reply: “Not-to-be-suff’red Jupiter, what need’st thou still enforce Thy matchless pow’r? We know it well; but we must yield remorse To them that yield us sacrifice. Nor need’st thou thus deride Our kind obedience, nor our griefs, but bear our pow’rs applied To just protection of the Greeks, that anger tomb not all In Troy’s foul gulf of perjury, and let them stand should fall.” “Grieve not,” said Jove, “at all done yet; for, if thy fair eyes please This next red morning they shall see the great Saturnides Bring more destruction to the Greeks; and Hector shall not cease, Till he have rouséd from the fleet swift-foot Æacides, In that day, when before their ships, for his Patroclus slain, The Greeks in great distress shall fight; for so the Fates ordain. I weigh not thy displeaséd spleen, though to th’ extremest bounds Of earth and seas it carry thee, where endless night confounds Japet, and my dejected Sire, who sit so far beneath, They never see the flying sun, nor hear the winds that breath, Near to profoundest Tartarus. Nor, thither if thou went, Would I take pity of thy moods, since none more impudent.” To this she nothing did reply. And now Sol’s glorious light Fell to the sea, and to the land drew up the drowsy night. The Trojans griev’d at Phœbus’ fall, which all the Greeks desir’d, And sable night, so often wish’d, to earth’s firm throne aspir’d. Hector (intending to consult) near to the gulfy flood, Far from the fleet, led to a place, pure and exempt from blood, The Trojans’ forces. From their horse all lighted, and did hear Th’ oration Jove-lov’d Hector made; who held a goodly spear, Elev’n full cubits long, the head was brass, and did reflect