And either knowing not his way, or then would let alone His purpos’d journey, is distract, and in his vexéd mind Resolves now not to go, now goes, still many ways inclin’d; So rev’rend Juno headlong flew, and ’gainst her stomach striv’d, For, being amongst th’ immortal Gods in high heav’n soon arriv’d, All rising, welcoming with cups her little absence thence, She all their courtships overpass’d with solemn negligence, Save that which fair-cheek’d Themis show’d, and her kind cup she took, For first she ran and met with her, and ask’d: “What troubled look She brought to heav’n? She thought, for truth, that Jove had terrified Her spirits strangely since she went.” The fair-arm’d Queen replied: “That truth may eas’ly be suppos’d; you, Goddess Themis, know His old severity and pride, but you bear’t out with show, And like the banquet’s arbiter amongst th’ Immortals’ fare, Though well you hear amongst them all, how bad his actions are; Nor are all here, or anywhere, mortals, nor Gods, I fear, Entirely pleas’d with what he does, though thus ye banquet here.” Thus took she place, displeasedly; the feast in general Bewraying privy spleens at Jove; and then, to colour all, She laugh’d, but merely from her lips, for over her black brows Her still-bent forehead was not clear’d; yet this her passion’s throes Brought forth in spite, being lately school’d: “Alas, what fools are we That envy Jove! Or that by act, word, thought, can fantasy Any resistance to his will! He sits far off, nor cares, Nor moves, but says he knows his strength, to all degrees compares His greatness past all other Gods, and that in fortitude, And ev’ry other godlike pow’r, he reigns past all indu’d. For which great eminence all you Gods, whatever ill he does, Sustain with patience. Here is Mars, I think, not free from woes, And yet he bears them like himself. The great God had a son, Whom he himself yet justifies, one that from all men won Just surname of their best belov’d, Ascalaphus; yet he, By Jove’s high grace to Troy, is slain.” Mars started horribly, As Juno knew he would, at this, beat with his hurl’d-out hands His brawny thighs, cried out, and said: “O you that have commands In these high temples, bear with me, if I revenge the death Of such a son. I’ll to the fleet, and though I sink beneath The fate of being shot to hell, by Jove’s fell thunder-stone, And lie all grim’d amongst the dead with dust and blood, my son Revenge shall honour.” Then he charg’d Fear and Dismay to join His horse and chariot. He got arms, that over heav’n did shine And then a wrath more great and grave in Jove had been prepar’d Against the Gods than Juno caus’d, if Pallas had not car’d More for the peace of heav’n than Mars; who leap’d out of her throne, Rapt up her helmet, lance, and shield, and made her fane’s porch groan With her egression to his stay, and thus his rage defers: “Furious and foolish, th’ art undone! Hast thou for nought thine ears?